A Titan's Last March (Discontinued)
by Dream Legion
Summary: The seeds of destruction have weeded into the League of Legends. Traitors and unknown enemies have unchained the scariest monsters Runeterra has ever seen from the ruins of the Institute. A war is coming. Can two wandering yordles, Poppy and Rumble, avenge the League and their fellow fallen champions? Will the Iron Ambassador realize her destiny as the Hero of Demacia?
1. Chapter 1: Unseen Assault

**This is my first story on this site. Please send feedback so I can improve for my dream of becoming a writer!**

 **Side Note: The romance side of the story won't be added till later in the story. What kind of writer would I be if I just threw two people together and called it love? (*cough* *cough* majority of writers on this site)**

 **Sarcasm and hate comments aside, enjoy reading!**

In this world, legends birth often and scarcely return to dust. A world, filled with great beauties and bone-chilling atrocities that manifest and form the landscape, its influence guiding history itself. From the splendor of Demacia and Bandle City to the rugged, verging lawless terrain of Noxus and Bilgewater, and then to the cauldrons of nightmares that corrupted the Void and the Shadow Isles, the world contained many breeding grounds for legends. Born from patriotism, tragedy, carnage, or pure sport, these awesome individuals were once almost completely silenced. But they remerged with a vengeance, and with this resurgence came a new age. An age of contest, trial, and progress. From this time period, a foundation gathered these heroes, villains, and monsters. That foundation soon became to be known as the League of Legends. But everything eventually withers, especially when the seeds of destruction were weeded into the shining, hopeful field of the League of Legends.

The crest of the Institute of War, a prominent figure in global society, now lay soot-sodden and broken in pieces on the ashen earth. No longer was the sky a vibrant blue, charcoal smoked air carrying the screams and wails of the afflicted. Flames licked the buildings and streets, devouring lost souls in its wake, filled with gluttony as it swallowed the city states. The famous Barracks that housed rookie and veteran Champions now stood obliterated and poisoned with dark magic. The home of the League of Legends cried out from mortal wounds.

The powerful icons that proudly gleamed of Demacia's prosperity such as the statue of King Jarvan I and the gemstone solar calendar Merlin's Memorial now lay decimated and brittle. The craggy, residential mountains that backboned Demacia slowly crumbled, bleeding man-made and natural rubble alike. Noxus was not without turmoil either. Noxian streets piled with corpses, bathing in black dirt and the ominous dark fog. The Immortal Bastion, the fortress palace of the Grand General Swain atop a spiraling, incut bluff, dropped castle limbs to the earth below. The already black-varnished rock turned a darker shade from the ash. Miles upon miles of land had been warred upon, wounds the land had not seen since the Rune Wars.

For the first time since her father died, Poppy quaked with fear. Her armor felt hot and uncomfortable, caused by the intense flames that littered the city. Poppy's pigtails were undone, long creamy hair that was covered in cement chips and soot falling to the middle of her back. Whomper felt heavy in her hands, surprising her if not for the brutal chaos injuring the Institute of War. She recognized some summoners in the debris, no longer among the realm of the living. Chills shivered up her spine as she trekked through the remains of the Institute. It was hard to imagine only a few hours ago had she won a glorious match on the Rift where she received an S grade token.

Poppy's wandering feet found her at the Grand Library, one of the Institute's beautiful symbols that currently was disfigured and mutilated. The golden dome that sealed the four-story building was splintered, fragments sizing anywhere from a ball to a war-rhino. The archways engraved into the library's walls were broken in certain areas, exposing its contents to the elements. Approaching the structure, Poppy found the several ton iron plated doors knocked off their hinges and cracked, laying atop one another. She remembered when her eyes first laid on the library's splendor, heading at that time to research who wielded her hammer. It saddened her to see something so magnificent in pain.

Upon entry, Poppy noticed a malignant aura. Its stench was like that of Void dwellers, but different. Unlike those from the Void like Kog'Maw, who seeked nothing but to devour all life, this one craved destruction and power. The evil aura stained the library, Poppy almost intoxicated by its repugnance. Covering her mouth with a gloveless hand, Poppy moved to the lobby of the library. The vast room was dark, the silhouettes of rowed book shelves the only guide for Poppy through the black. From what she could see, blood was smeared widely across the shelves, the Iron Ambassador spotting corpses carven like turkeys. Even through her pinched nose Poppy could smell death. She knew something deadly lurked in the shadows.

A desk came into view. Coming closer, the yordle recognized the first floor's curator, Randle Grend. The aging coot lay slumped in his chair behind the main desk, many of his limbs hacked to pieces. She didn't have time to feel sad, as she passed the magic elevators and staircases to the central core of the library: The Index Sanction. Books cluttered on the ground in huge piles, entire shelves knocked over like dominoes. It unnerved Poppy that the only sound in the silence was her dull footsteps. Clutching Whomper tighter, she guarded herself and expected to be attacked.

Out of the corner of her eye, the yordle spotted a faint purple light. She moved toward it, every passing footstep the sound of conflicting magic increasing. At the corner of a support beam, Poppy peered around it, shocked at the sight before her eyes. Nasus panted, blood dripping from his temple, raising his staff back into a battle stance. The champion appeared to be badly hurt, favoring large cuts and bruises. He faced an enemy that was concealed to Poppy's point of view. Below his feet, Nasus was surrounded in spirit fire, giving off a purple glow. The Ascended scholar scowled. "I figured you were behind this attack," Nasus growled, stretching his lips back to reveal menacing teeth. His opponent laughed.

"So, it's true you're smarter than most. I expected you'd smell nicer though," the voice mocked. Poppy remembered that voice, but couldn't find its face. Nasus arced his arm, sending violet fireballs from his staff. The foe laxly deflected it with a swipe. "You don't give up, do you?" the voice sighed. "It's a shame I have to wipe such a wise mage as yourself from Runeterra. Well, at least people will tremble at the knowledge that I'm powerful enough to kill an Ascended."

The room shook. Suddenly excited fire enlightened the room. Poppy glanced at the enemy, who now came into full view. It was a tall bald man, his burgundy skin tattooed with various mystical curves and circles intertwining on the surface. His cloth shirt was parted down to the middle, slightly covering a muscular chest. His attire was that of a wizard, except the sleeves were tattered. On one arm, bright gemstones with what Poppy assumed were magic letters engraved on its surfaces were supplanted in the man's skin. His eyes beamed scarlet, stocked with malice and bloodthirst. The man reminded the yordle of the rogue mage Ryze she had fought with.

Nasus swung his staff at the mage. In response, the man blasted a malicious magic bolt into Nasus' ribs. The jackal howled in pain, swinging again and missing. He was blasted off his feet, colliding into a book shelf. "What is it you want, Orus?" Nasus seethed, wincing at his bleeding ribs. Wasn't that the new champion that entered the League, Poppy thought. The mage known as Orus snorted smugly.

"Oh, you dumb Shuriman mutt, you'll be dead before you see it unfold."

Poppy had had enough. She dashed forward, her hammer eager for smashing. The mage barely paid her notice, swiping his hand. Poppy flung back into the book shelf with Nasus. "Iron Ambassador? What are you doing here?" asked a surprised Nasus.

"I came here trying to find survivors," she lied. Pure shock is what led her confused feet to the Grand Library. "Looked like you needed help. That didn't work out too well." Poppy barely felt the impact, thanks to her thick armor. She got to her feet, getting Nasus to shakily stand through raw strength.

"Are you all right?" Poppy asked concerned. Nasus shook his head.

"You need to leave right now, Poppy," the jackal warned, spitting out blood. "You have no idea what kind of mess you're getting into."

Orus smirked. "You should be more concerned about your own health, mutt." Fire erupted from his palm. Poppy got herself and Nasus out of the way just in time, but almost burned as the raging heat passed her. Poppy charged again, swinging her hammer. A gem on Orus' arm flashed, a sudden barrier large enough to block the hammer's face. The yordle swung twice more, Orus using the same effect. The mage scoffed, cupping his hand, and turning it toward the yordle. Poppy was lifted off her feet, eyes widened, gasping in pain as the invisible hand gave her a feeling of numerous inflicting elements. "How's it feel to be burning, freezing, and cut simultaneously?" Orus grinned.

Her grip on Whomper loosened, the hammer dropping with a spectacular smash on the ground. Poppy reached for the nonexistent hands choking her with magic, tears dripping out of her eyes. If she was to die, Poppy wanted to die an honorable death on the battlefield for Demacia. Not in some dark library dying a shameful death where she didn't even land a hit on her opponent. The pain she felt from the elemental magic was excruciating, and Poppy faded in and out of consciousness. She needed a miracle.

Suddenly, she plummeted to the floor, lungs grasping for air. Her head pivoted, finding a titanic-sized Nasus attacking Orus. The jackal withered the mage, landing a few good strikes. Blocking the next flurry of attacks, Orus wiped the blood from his mouth, growling fiercely. His hands gestured in many weird movements before a black magic blast coursed with lightning fired at the Curator. From somewhere, Nasus had found a Banshee's Veil, using it to shield himself and Poppy. But the attack was unrelenting, pressuring the veil. The magical shield started to crack.

"Poppy," Nasus smiled warmly, turning his head toward the yordle. "This barrier won't hold forever. Get out of here and save yourself." Poppy shook her head, wiping away tears.

"What? Don't say that, Nasus," she responded, sniffling. "I can't leave you. We can fight him together. I've lost too many people to see any more die."

Nasus chuckled to himself. "Even if we fought together, we would lose." The shield cracked further. "Don't worry Poppy," he soothed. "There's no shame in letting a friend sacrifice themselves for you. Besides, I've lived long enough."

Poppy's eyes started to flood, whimpers escaping from her mouth. "Thank you, Nasus," she cried. Nasus nodded. Grabbing her hammer, Poppy fled. Meanwhile, the veil was on the verge of breaking. As the blast came closer and closer to Nasus, his mind wandered back to the days of his youth. How he and his brother, Renekton, played carelessly in the slums. Still able to feel the love of a mother. Nasus felt great affection for Renekton, mixed with twisting and panging sorrow. A tear shed from the Ascended's eye. His only regret was that he couldn't see his happy-go-lucky, impulsive brother one last time. The shield shattered.

Poppy escaped through the Grand Library's entrance before the building exploded. Running and running, her heels felt worn and fatigued. Though her armor was thick and pushed over any basic attack, Poppy's insides contorted. For years, she wandered the Runeterra, traveling to the harsh tundras of the Freljord and the screeching, murderous Kumungu Jungle in search of the rightful wielder of her hammer. But there was another reason she traveled. The souls of the dead she felt responsible for left her isolated, refusing to get close to people. It was until she was found by Jarvan III on a Demacian highway that her inner demons of solitude were exorcised, growing fond of her king. Eventually, Poppy was dubbed official Demacian ambassador to Bandle City. Those types of demons don't die easy though, as Poppy well knew at this very moment.

Poppy's feet carried her to the winds, leaving behind the fallen city states and wake of the decimated League of Legends.


	2. Chapter 2: Unexpected Guest

**Wow this took a long time to make. I might not post daily because I'm also working on two non-fan-fiction novels (time management at its finest, I know). But thank you for taking time to click on my unknown works and enjoy reading!**

The Demacian plains swayed with the shifting breeze. The landscape was a flat, wavy green canvas, complementing the limestone mountains in the background. Only the peach-colored dirt road split the plains. On the borders of the mountain, a rural village town quietly bustled. Though it was small compared to the suburb cities of Demacia Prime, it was a mighty asset for the state's prestigious military, sporting the best of the nation's blacksmiths and tinkerers. It was no stranger to warriors either, as it birthed the only officer in the military's high command that wasn't raised in the capital: Quinn.

The terracotta roofs gleamed from the sun's rays. Most of the buildings in the market were two-stories tall, decorated in a tutor style fashion. Citizens passed through, bargaining prices with shopkeepers for products anywhere from produce to metalworks. Even at the dead of night the market always had customers. In the central area of the market, a blacksmith forge pounded out the iron. Doubling as a hextech workshop, the forge was a popular attraction, offering fine weapons for soldiers and repairs for wagons and farming tools. A rarer supplier, the workshop behind the stone forging tables and the brick ovens still profited from traveling mages and artillery squadrons.

The owner of the forge and workshop, Jonas Doran, was a lighthearted prodigy in the village. Nephew to the famous League blacksmith Effrem Doran, Jonas gained favor of the peasants and nobles of Demacia alike, through his expert metalcraft and hextech expertise that he acquired from his famed uncle. Many had come to him asking for apprenticeship from the middle-aged man, but the one he enjoyed the most was a spunky teenage yordle from Bandle City.

Jonas fired several strikes at the tangerine colored blade, prepping it for perfection. He lifted the blade, shuffling over to a barrel of water, and plunging the burning sword into its contents. Steam bubbled vigorously from the water. Stroking his thick red beard with satisfaction, Jonas hung his creation next to his other swords. The hulk of a man moved to the other side of the room, opening the door to the garage. Inside, his student was rigorously fine-tuning his mech. Tristy, his student's masterpiece, had thin legs made of steel rods, magnet clasps fortified by iron as its feet. The cockpit and torso was a bronze semi sphere, strong enough to wield two weaponized arms. One arm was equipped with a flamethrower, the other coiling a silver pipe and a thick, spiked mace for a fist. It was a machine Jonas stared in awe at, dubbing it the Junkyard Titan.

"You never cease to amaze me, boy. Someone at your age is usually a chirping dullard," Jonas stated, smiling.

Rumble gazed at his teacher for a moment with big, cat-like amber eyes, then turned back to his work. "Well most humans whether my age or twice yours don't respect the brilliance of my kind," Rumble replied, cranking a bolt with his wrench. Back in Bandle City, the young yordle never was treated with much respect, due to him being a runt among his already small race. At one point, he hated humans, despising the layabout attitude of yordles like Heimerdinger who tired for humans in return with nothing more than a pat on the head. In retaliation of a brawl with four human graduates from the Yordle Academy, Rumble built his combat robot from junkyard scavenging, marching to the center of town amongst dumbfounded onlookers and proclaimed the global potential of yordle-tech. It was until Rumble stumbled across Jonas' path in a Bandle City metal depot that his view on humans changed, even if only slightly.

Jonas sighed. "I still think you should open up to more people. Not all humans are pig-headed rascists."

Rumble climbed down the ladder and placed his wrench on the work table, searching for his blowtorch. He slicked back his messy mohawk, his face and clothes smeared with oil stains. "There's no reason for me to bond with people," the yordle said. "I've had enough of know-it-all jackasses who criticize my work. To hell with 'em."

"Ain't I one of those jackasses?" Jonas mused, sporting a wide-toothed grin.

"You're the exception."

Jonas left, returning to his own devices. Rumble found his blowtorch, his other hand grabbing a welding mask. Opening a plate on his robot's underside, Rumble started adjusting Tristy's wiring. These days, the boy mechanic battled in the League of Legends, proving his effectiveness in battle. The Equalizer he built was an important tool toward the danger of fighting him. Depending on his mood, Rumble might not always agree with his fellow champions in battle. But when his flamethrower and Equalizer were hungry in team fights, Rumble was a force to be reckoned with. He finally gained respect he wanted for so long.

Rumble flipped his mask up, wiping his brow. After Rumble met Jonas a few years ago, an advertisement for champion recruiting went up in the town tavern. Examining the paper, Rumble decided to compete. At first his journey was tedious, training through the Barracks under strict policies and drill sergeants. However, he ended succeeding top of his group and exceled on the Summoner's Rift. Rumble did not like many humans, but he enjoyed the company of Garen. The Demacian war hero might have been loud and obnoxious, but Rumble took a liking to his personality, having many drinks with him and his acquaintances after a winning match. Rumble also eyed the Iron Ambassador Poppy with curiosity, but knew little of her.

Rumble exited the garage, locking it up. Heading out to the market, Rumble found his favorite shopkeeper. A few people stared at him too long, but the mechanic ignored them. He bought a supply of nuts, bolts, and new tools, leaving the busy bazaar. The villagers were warm and welcoming, easing Rumble's opinions of humans, but didn't completely snuff out his grudge. He never really wished to see his own kind either, harboring spiteful memories of being bullied because he was a runt. It always felt like everyone he met judged him by his size. However, sometimes Rumble wished to gaze at Poppy. Every time she passed him in the halls of the Institute or the main cafeteria, he unknowingly blushed, taking longer looks at her creamy pigtails and pearly white grin.

The day shifted into dusk, then rested into night. Rumble walked into the bright open-air forge, passing a sweaty Jonas, and climbing up into a chair against the wall. Jonas wooed obnoxiously, finishing this time a double-faced hammer. "Don't dwell too much on your size, boy," he said, reading what was on Rumble's mind. "You should be more worried on the size of your heart. And from what I've seen, your heart is mightier than most men I know."

"Easier for you to say," Rumble said tiredly. "You're a giant among men."

Jonas laughed softly. "That may be. But size didn't stop you from taking down a rampaging crag beast, now did it?"

Rumble sighed. "That was pure instinct. I didn't have a moment to think on my own."

Jonas shook his head. "That monster was at least three stories tall and long as two mansions. It was your bravery that saved the village." Jonas chuckled. "That, and your brainy head."

The yordle bit into an apple. The crag beast that threatened the town shortly after Rumble came here was an ongoing problem for secluded farmers. Rumble remembered trembling at the thought of being run through by one of its tower long ivory tusks. However, its large form gave Rumble the advantage, teaming up with Tristy to Equalize the threat. Rumble rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, oil stain."

Jonas pumped more air into the oven. "Don't you have a League match tomorrow?"

Rumble nodded. "Yeah, I hear I'm gonna fight Olaf. That won't be fun," he sighed.

A figure caught Rumble's eye. It was a yordle, surprising the boy. Parts of her body wore armor, but areas like her torso and one of her arms were bare. The girl's eyes were fluttering with fear. Her hair was covered in a black dirt. The yordle seemed exhausted, sweat pouring off her in gallons. The most distinguishing feature about her though was the golden outlined hammer she carried tightly in her violently shaking hands. It was at least twice her size, leaving Jonas speechless as to how she could lift it, let alone walk with the weapon. Rumble stared, dumbfounded.

The girl breathed loudly. Suddenly, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, collapsing. Jonas caught her before the impact, weirdly holding the yordle as her grip on the hammer didn't waver. The blacksmith's head turned to Rumble. The boy knew, running up to Jonas' home as the girl was carried in tow. Jonas felt awkward lifting the young girl in his burly arms, the extra weight from the hammer almost overtaking even him. Jonas went through the small kitchen above the forge, entering the hallway and finding a bedroom. An open bed waited for the unconscious yordle, laying her down as Rumble, with much effort, pried her hand from the hammer.

"You know her?" Jonas inquired.

Rumble ventured up the bed, peering further at the girl's face, wiping off her dirt-covered face with cloth. Upon closer inspection, he nearly fell off the mattress to find out it was Poppy, the Iron Ambassador he secretly gazed at.

"The hell is she doing here…" Rumble gasped.

Before Jonas could speak, Rumble ordered his teacher for cold, wet cloth and a glass of water. Jonas left for a moment, reappearing with a tall glass and a white washcloth. Rumble positioned the cloth on Poppy's hot forehead. Gingerly, he lifted her head up, slowly slipping the water down her tongue and into her dry throat. Even when Poppy was unconscious, she looked beautiful, Rumble thought. The yordle girl breathed raggedly through her lips, eyebrows contorting in pain.

Rumble grew scared just to interact with Poppy. So long he had looked at her, yet he didn't know much about her. Self-anger rose in his belly. He finally gets his chance to meet up with her, so he ignored his past thoughts of doing something to hurt her in her current state. Rumble wanted to help, even if he wasn't social with people. Jonas wiped his hands, wearing a furrowed brow.

"Any clue what happened to her?" he asked.

"I'm not very knowledgeable in the medical field, but it looks like dehydration and extreme exhaustion to me," Rumble replied, pouring more water into Poppy's narrow lips.

"Exhaustion? Did she run here?" Jonas briefly looked at Poppy's hammer. "If she did run here, that hammer would explain why."

Rumble shook his head. "I know her from the League. Her name's Poppy, and using that hammer is effortless to her."

Jonas stepped back in shock. "You mean the Iron Ambassador? Doesn't even look like her."

Rumble replaced the cloth on the girl's forehead. He noticed finally that her iconic pigtails now were gone, slumping with the rest of her dirty hair. Rumble brushed the black dirt between his fingers. "Ash…" Rumble said quietly to himself. He slowly climbed off the bed, heading toward the kitchen, Jonas following close behind.

"Was she attacked?" Jonas asked, scratching his head.

"No," Rumble shook his head, climbing a tall stepping stool, reaching into the counter cupboards. "When I first saw her, she looked frightened. Also, she was wearing armor, but not a full set." He added chicken squares, corn, and salt to a cold broth. Stepping down, he carried the bowl to the fireplace, setting it on the pot stand over the lax flame. Rumble stirred the contents before he was satisfied.

"My guess is that she fled from something," Rumble continued, cutting a slice of bread from a loaf. "Those missing armor pieces suggest she ran a long way, maybe stripping them for less weight on her bones. On another note, she's covered in ash."

"Ash?"

Rumble nodded. "So, it looks like she fled from an accident involving fire. Or more likely, an attack."

Jonas raised an eyebrow. "Then why do you look confused?"

Rumble frowned. "Even to a loner like me, I know of the tenacity and strong-willed morale of Demacians. I've heard they're harsh military training makes them fearless of death and constantly drive for patriotism. It makes them shrug off the idea of retreat and scorn at the thought of surrender. Though she wasn't born in this nation, even foreigners like Poppy that call Demacia their home serve their country with bravery and without hesitation." Rumble stirred the soup, lifting the wooden spoon, and sipping the liquid. "I think she and some group of people were attacked. So then why would someone as regarded as the Iron Ambassador, a great patriot for the country, flee from a battle? It doesn't add up."

Half an hour passed before Rumble was satisfied with the soup's heat. Jonas offered help, but was waved by Rumble, the yordle teenager putting the fireplace poker under the pot's handle and lifting it off the stand. Unable to put the pot back on the counter, Rumble laid it on the floor, retrieving a bowl and spoon from the cupboards above. A meal prepared, Rumble carefully moved it to the bedroom Poppy resided in. The hextech lamp Rumble built gave the room dim light, lining deep shadows on the peacefully sleeping girl's face. Rumble smiled. If anything, his wish of meeting Poppy was granted.

"You think she'll be all right?" asked Jonas, leaning on the door frame with arms crossed. Rumble shrugged. "Dunno. I'll watch over her until she wakes up." Rumble replaced the now warm cloth with a cold one on her forehead. Jonas bid him goodnight, the apartment succumbing to darkness in all but the bedroom. There was a lush chair sitting in the corner of the tiny, rectangular room, Rumble trekking up the furniture before he rested his back. Whatever happened to Poppy intrigued Rumble. His curiosity wanted to boil over.

His ears perked up when he heard a sound. It came from Poppy. Rumble leaned in, catching on that she was faintly speaking. Staring at her, she was still unconscious, but her lips moved. "The League…" Rumble brimmed with anxiousness. Then what he caught from her speech sent tidal waves of chills down his spine.

"The League has fallen…"


	3. Chapter 3: Impending Doom

**If you've gotten this far, many thanks. I will be publishing chapters periodically. Sometimes I will be posting daily, sometimes once every few days, or once every week. Either way, reviews are much appreciated, so please bring them in!**

Poppy's eyes fluttered open. She sat up, surprised at finding herself in a bed. She examined her surroundings, which she judged were pleasant. It was a small, rectangular room, with stained oak planks lining its walls. Her cottons sheets felt comfortable, raising them and blushing. Her clothes were switched out with clean ones, making the girl self-conscious, cheeks reddening. Poppy pivoted her head to examine the rest of the room, noticing a bowl of cold soup under a lamp on the side table. Her gaze turned a few degrees before she was stunned.

"RUMBLE?!" Poppy yelped, pulling up her covers.

The yordle smaller than most she'd seen had been sleeping, jerking awake in shock. His eyes moved wildly before they focused on the shy figure of Poppy. A squeak caught in his throat.

"P-P-Poppy?" he stammered, falling off the leather chair he slept in. A pang of regret hit Poppy, now feeling bad for Rumble as he caressed his bruised head and moaned quietly. He disappeared from Poppy's vision for a moment. Then, tiny blue fingers clasped the edge of the bed, carrying Rumble up its side. The wrench monkey got to his feet and patted his pale brown trousers, leaning in towards Poppy, causing her to become more self-conscious. His brow furrowed, staring hard at Poppy's frame. What surprised Poppy was when Rumble blushed crimson a few seconds later, back-stepping. His foot slipped on the edge and if not for Poppy's quick hand, he would've fallen off a second piece of furniture.

Rumble breathed a sigh of relief. "What am I doing here?" asked Poppy. This question baffled the Mechanized Menace.

"I should be asking you that," Rumble replied.

Poppy held her covers tight to her body. "I remember running somewhere. Anywhere. But I don't remember why." She answered, staring at the bedsheets. Her eyes widened in panic. "Where's Whomper?!"

"W-who?" Rumble asked uncomfortably.

"My hammer. Where is it?" she demanded.

Rumble pointed to the floor, Poppy peering over the bed and sighing in relief. "You said something last night. 'The League has fallen'. What do you mean?" Rumble questioned. Poppy tensed, memories trampling her over. Her body shivered with despair.

"No, no no no no," Poppy rambled, her breathing erratic. "It can't have happened. No, no, no. Uh, t-there was fire, and and destruction for miles, and…" she stopped, face twisting into that of pure horror. "Nasus…please not him…" Tears leaked from her eyes like waterfalls, covering her face in her hands.

The yordle girl cannonballed into panic overdrive. Rumble gulped, unsure of what the situation was, let alone how to respond to it. He laid a hand on her shoulder, shushing her soothingly. "You're okay, Poppy. You're all right. Just tell me what happened. Take deep breaths…I think. What do you mean by 'the League has fallen'?

Poppy sniffed, wiping her wet eyes. "T-The Institute, it was attacked. Something happened, I don't know, and then the city erupted in flames. So many dead bodies…so many summoners died." Poppy made out, wiping her eyes. "Then I made my way to the Grand Library, I found Nasus. He, he was badly hurt. He was fighting the new champion that entered the League. He…" Poppy's words caught in her throat.

"What happened to Nasus?" Rumble pressed.

Poppy gulped. "Orus killed him…" she whispered.

Rumble felt like someone knocked his head in with a mace. The new champion betrayed the League? The Institute of War is destroyed? Nasus is dead? Thoughts and emotions clouded rational thought. Then his mind came back to Orus. He could kill an Ascended, a title given to those in the same league with _gods_. Confusion aided in distressing both yordles.

Rumble was the first to come back. "I'll be right back," he stated, jumping off the bed and disappearing. Fifteen minutes later, he carried a tray of breakfast items above his head. With some help from Poppy, Rumble delivered the meal. On the menu, Poppy saw a slice of buttered bread, sizzling sausage, and scrambled eggs. Rumble placed a glass of milk on the bedside table. Her stomach bellowed, Poppy's cheeks reddening. Rumble smiled warmly. "Eat up. You sound like your starving." He chuckled.

Immediately, the Iron Ambassador momentarily forgot her traumatic experiences. Poppy cut into her breakfast, eating similarly to a slobbering wolf. The sausage grease slipped out of her mouth, waves of pleasure buzzing through her body. Rumble sure is a damn good cook, she thought gratefully. She gestured for the milk, taking a big swig when her fingers reached the glass. When she was finished, she wiped her mouth with a white cloth from the tray. "Thank you," Poppy smiled toothily. Rumble gulped, turning his head away, blushing. Poppy turned her head slightly to the side.

Rumble couldn't stand that smile. It was a smile that was rare to find from his sightseeing views in the Institute, and even then, his mind jittered from that simple action. She reactively looked down at her chest and covered up. "Are you serious?! How badly do you add like a teenager?"

Rumble saw her response in the corner of his eye, responding with a ghastly expression. "I-I wasn't even looking there. Besides, I am a teenager."

This took Poppy aback. Rumble appeared older than he looked, with his long mohawk, now shifted to one side from bedhead, and the thin patch of curly blue hair growing further out then the rest of his furry face. His attire wasn't that of a teenager either, draped in a tunic shirt covered in oil stains and pale brown trousers. "How old are you?" she leaned, narrowing her eyes, and tightening her lips.

"17…" Rumble replied bashfully.

Poppy blinked. "You entered the League of Legends at around 15 years old? What's with you?"

Rumble shrugged. This question made Rumble think for a minute. It was one he never pondered of.

"Well, how old are you?" Rumble retorted the inquiry. Poppy swallowed her words.

"18…" she said quietly. The mechanic scoffed.

"Not much room to talk then," Rumble frowned. He jumped off the bed, gesturing to Poppy. "C'mon. I'll get you some armor from Jonas. You lost a lot of pieces when you came here." The girl hesitantly pulled off her sheets, vaulting over the bed and falling to the floor. She found she was in a pale blue night gown. Examining her pajama attire, she reached for Whomper, resting the hammer on her shoulder and following Rumble.

After walking down the stained oak staircase, Poppy entered a large forge. Waves of nostalgia came over her, remembering helping her father in his own forge back in Bandle City. A big burly man with a large red beard and no hair was hard at work hammering at metal ore. He wiped the sweat from his face, noticing the yordles. "The young lass is up, I see," Jonas grinned.

Poppy examined the weapons on the suspended rack. Each one, from sword to mace, was finely made, shining proudly in the waking sun. The Iron Ambassador was impressed by the masterful metalwork. "How can a small thing like you carry that hammer?" Jonas bended over, eye-to-eye with Poppy. The girl bounced the hammer in on her other hand.

"I'm stronger than I look."

Jonas laughed. "Of course, you are. Otherwise you wouldn't be a national hero or a champion in the League." Though the man would seem intimidating to most people, he was lighthearted. Poppy bit her lip, previous memories appearing briefly. Rumble unlocked the garage, Poppy behind him. Inside she spotted Rumble's famed mech. It looked patchwork at best, misshapen metals bolted together to make this menace. Rumble sat inside, powering Tristy up. He took a few steps from the loudly whirring robot, pulling the clutch. The mech roared, Poppy remaining unfazed. Rumble peered over the cockpit at Poppy.

"Maybe there'll be some news in town about what happened," Rumble informed, driving the robot out of the garage. Poppy didn't get a good look outside, but she was pleased by where she was. Tutor-style buildings lined the streets, shopkeepers stretched across the market in some sort of bazaar. Most of them were two-stories, but some differed, being anywhere from one story to four. The two yordles walked down the stone street. A time went by before Rumble stopped in front of what appeared to be a gazette. Rumble locked the controls, vaulting out of Tristy. Heading inside, the owner jumped in surprise. "Two champions in my shop? I must be blessed," the old man laughed.

"Any news on Demacia and the Institute?" Rumble asked gravely. The old man shook his head.

"Why do you ask, my friend?"

The runt turned to Poppy, the girl shifting uncomfortably. Before she could answer, the door busted open. It was a news messenger, out of breath and frightened. "What's wrong, son?" the owner inquired.

"The…The Institute is destroyed," the messenger panted. "A lot of champions are dead. The D-Demacia and No-Noxus capitals were attacked and obliterated…the king and the Grand General of Noxus are dead."

Rumble stared, stunned. The capitals are gone? The yordle boy tapped his foot nervously. "I can't believe Swain is dead…" Poppy said quietly.

"Oh no," Rumble said, realization hitting. "If the Institute is destroyed, so are the cells holding…them." Poppy tensed, understanding Rumble's fear.

"Orus just let lose the most dangerous beings on Runeterra," Poppy agreed grimly, slamming her hammer's head to the floor. "Brand, Kog'Maw, Xerath, Renekton. Havoc will spread across Kalamandra. Is there anyone who can contain the convicts?" She asked to anyone.

"Those four aren't even the worse," Rumble shook. "If the Institute is gone, so too is the East-Wing Summoning Chamber. That means that thing is loose."

The gazette owner and messenger grew pale white. They knew the myths and rumors of people disappearing behind those ten-foot stone doors. If anyone did come out alive, they left screaming and adjoined to insanity, rational thought never returning. If the monster that resided in there is no longer shackled, Runeterra had an ill fate with the Harbinger of Doom.

* * *

 _Orus strided through the cold halls of the broken Insitute, enveloped in darkness and silence. The mage lifted his hand, a flame sparking above the palm. Dim light showed a path. Bits and pieces of the ceiling crumbled to the floor, dirtying the ground with rubble, moonlight shining through the holes. The walls were carved in symmetrical arches, with statues of legendary warriors enshrined from the earliest historical records of the Rune Wars. "It must be around here somewhere," the mage tsked._

 _After the attack started, Orus started his search for the prison cell. He knew his allies would need no help in terrorizing the city and spread bloodied warnings across the international highways. He felt pleased, knowing his power had reached a height unimaginable to the dark wizard a few years ago. To think of how much chaos would bring by news spreading of Nasus' death, Orus jittered with twisted glee. Now his only goal left in this city was to find the cell._

 _He walked through the corridors, observing everything for something unordinary. Walking never bothered Orus, as it was a consequence for his goals. Many memorials standing to the ancestral legends that made history as it is present day were chipped and bruised. Statues that lined the walls were disfigured by missing heads, broken arms, or cracked torsos, most likely causing those past legends to be lost to history. Orus moved through the dark hallway before he came across a towering set of stone doors. He found it. Both doors were tightly shut, unaffected by the mayhem that wrecked the rest of the Institute._

 _Orus lifted his hand, placing it against the entrance. A rune on his arm glowed. Returning his arm to his side, Orus watched the central piece warp, the stone transmuting into dust. A hole was made for the size of a man to walk through. Nothing but pitch black was in the chamber. The mage walked through, when he heard it. Ominous cackling that echoed through the empty Insitute. The mage remained unfazed, bringing his flame back to life in his palm. A burlap sack with slits for hollow, sunken eyes and a bone-chilling smile stared back at Orus. Suddenly, the mage's vision went fuzzy, the figure facing Orus shaking into three, the crooked grin curving further up its cheekbones and eyes beaming an angry red. Orus spoke an incantation, ridding him of the hallucinations._

 _The burlap sack giggled gleefully. "Your bidding, master?"_

 _Orus grinned with satisfaction. "To plunge Runeterra into chaos. Make the people dive into terror and despair. Make the world remember how scared it was a century ago. Let the world know why you were named the Harbinger of Doom." Flocks of wild crows fired by Orus, cawing creepily as the birds slipped through the hole in the doors and into the night._

 _"As you wish," the voice replied. Orus could hardly contain his excitement._

 _"Then leave this place and spread chaos," Orus roared with joyful laughter. "Rise, Fiddlesticks."_


	4. Chapter 4: Hot Encounter

**This chapter was so fun to write. Took me awhile but it's finally finished so enjoy!**

The lone wizard gazed through the rift, distraught at the Insitute's now black and smoky skin. He gritted his teeth, shifting from rift to rift, and stared upon the destruction of the city states of Demacia and Noxus. Unable to look at the mass murder any longer, Ryze swiped his hand, warping the rifts into non-existence. "Those bastards better prepare for war," the mage stated to himself, clenching his white-knuckle fists. He turned his heel, striding across the wavy, dark blue astral plane. Tiny particles of light flew upwards from the ground as Ryze moved from place to place until he was satisfied with a certain spot.

He spoke an incantation, his voice deepened into an unpronounceable language. A document apparated, folding out into existence and becoming suspended in the air. Ryze examined the list, containing conditions and whereabouts of every champion in the League. There were grim results.

"Dammit," Ryze seethed, boiling with anger. Many champions died in the Institute, seeing Akali and Leona as examples for the deceased. Most of the champions residing in the capital city of Demacia were also eradicated, Jarvan IV, Lux, and Shyvana among others who appeared in the deceased category. In Noxus, the Grand General Swain was killed inside his castle, while other Noxian heroes such Draven and Leblanc died in the fallout of the city's attack. Ryze scrolled down the document, breathing a sigh of relief. Populated districts such as Ionia City and Bandle City were unharmed. Meaning, Ryze deduced, these attacks were a show of force.

A death caught Ryze's eye, his breath caught in his throat. The champion section read: 'Nasus (Curator of the Sands): DECEASED. Cause of death: slain by champion Orus'. The mage's eyes flared with hot blue energy, the astral plane rippling as Ryze roared, magical power sparking and dancing in the air. Understanding synergized with rage inside the blue-skinned wizard. "I knew that son of a bitch couldn't be trusted," Ryze growled. He felt pity for Nasus, a dear friend of Ryze's dating back to when they studied as teenagers at the exemplary libraries of Shurima. Only Ryze was trusted by Nasus to use this document.

But that information meant the murderer had the strength to kill an Ascended. Ryze spoke an incantation. This time, the Institute records scanned for Orus profile. Within seconds, a champion file materialized. Orus picture, a man almost identical to Ryze except for shaded red skin and a beardless face, was positioned next to his background and abilities. The champion history read: 'Much isn't known about Orus the Elementalist. One day, an unknown addition to the League was added in Orus, with no notice or specifics given to the public or the participants in the League of Legends. Only the inner circle of command for the Institute of War know the details for this mage, shrouded in mystery. From rumors of Orus belonging to a category of extradimensional beings such as the Rogue Mage, Ryze, to being a lowly hermit who tamed the elements to bend to his will, one thing is for certain. Orus is a magical and natural force to be reckoned with.

Ryze swiped the background away, reaching the ability page. The mage's eyes narrowed. The ability page was completely blank. "Someone doesn't want to be known about," Ryze observed, hypotheses and hunches swirling in his mind. Orus couldn't have done this alone, Ryze thought. One man isn't enough to break in and altar the Institute's records. It was simply impossible. The records folded by itself, the mage speaking an incantation for the mystical paper to follow the mage. Ryze snapped his fingers, bringing images of the decimated city states and Orus into existence. "The nations' capitals were attacked simultaneously with the League's headquarters," Ryze mused.

Ryze spoke a word, the records unfolding again and bringing forth the deceased champion section of the document. The wizard noticed both nation's leaders, Jarvan IV and Swain, were killed in the attacks. The mage also noted that high ranking mages in their separate governments such as Lux and Leblanc died in their capitals as well. A thought crossed Ryze's mind, turning back to the images of the fallen cities. Ryze's brow furrowed in confusion as he cycled through images of the separate cities. Dark magic resonated everywhere, corroding the scorched rubble and the mutilated bodies that scattered across the streets. Then, the mage pulled up a time feed. At the beginning, the capitals bustled and were relatively peaceful. In an instant, Ryze sensed a dark magic aura, surrounding the cities. Chained explosions ripped through the residential areas, markets completely obliterated in a blink. Large areas of land crumbled under heavy magic pressure. Structures that sat atop hills and mountains such as the Immortal Bastion in Noxus collapsed. Chaos ensued.

This puzzled Ryze. "How could they have assaulted that much landscape within seconds of each other…?" Ryze stroked his beard. Through the chaos, no large fighting force made its presence known. No war parties eager to conquer the remains. Meaning the attackers were individuals, and small in number. But not even champions could possess this raw potential for destruction. Beings on level with gods such as Ascended and creatures who lived on dimensional planes such as Nocturne and Ryze couldn't come close to this amount of mayhem. Especially not individually. Then a creeping realization struck Ryze, spiking his nerves. Ryze pivoted his heel and ran, ridding the images and the records in close pursuit.

"Those bastards got ahold of World Runes," Ryze spat.

When Ryze found his destination a few minutes later on the wavy plane surface, the mage opened the records one last time. He scrolled down the whereabouts of current champions, content when he made his selection. Ryze yelled an incantation, raising his hand in the air. Blue energy coursed across the mage's arm and into his hand. Ryze finished his incantation, activating Realm Warp. A circle of unstable aquamarine colored energy formed at the wizard's feet. "Time to kill some traitors," Ryze rumbled, before blinking out of the astral plane dimension.

* * *

"We need to get the word out, people need to know about the fall of the capital!" the messenger squealed. Inside the newspaper shop, the messenger boy busted through the door and informed Rumble and Poppy of how bad Demacia's shape was. Poppy rested her hammer's face on the ground, a worried look on her face. Rumble sighed. Sometimes he hated humans for how quick they were to jump off a bridge before they found out they can't swim.

"And what happens when they find out the government has toppled?" the teenage yordle retorted. "There would be mass mayhem, and a power vacuum involving other nations would form in not only this nation, but the remains of Noxus as well. Right now, the citizen's sense of security needs to be maintained and Demacia's enemies unaware of its predicament."

"So, what, people shouldn't be told that our king is dead?" the gazette owner fired back. "People will find out eventually."

Rumble nodded. "I agree with you. The citizens can't be kept in the dark forever. Keeping a secret as large as that attack would be downright impossible. But blatantly saying it will cause more chaos than there already is."

"Then what should we do? I need something," the owner said.

Rumble pondered this for minute, nervous jitters fluttering inside his stomach as he felt Poppy's eyes staring at him, eager for an answer. "Tell them that the capital was attacked by a random enemy nation. Say that it survived the assault, and that a declaration of war has been proclaimed. Also, write how citizens should stay away from the capital for the time being in fear of another attack. That the military needs no militia backup for war preparations."

"That's very un-Demacian like…" the owner anxiously stated.

Rumble gritted his teeth, yelling in outrage. "What do you want me to do?!" He roared at the owner, frightening him and Poppy. "Think of where I'm put. I belong, or _belonged_ , to an organization of champions, where most of them are probably dead in those regions. I'm stuck in a baffling situation where _I_ of all people, who despise most humans, must keep national and international order intact for a nation where humans are a population majority, because I'm one of the only people with enough influence and smarts to do it. I'm just seventeen, a runt among yordles at that, and suddenly I'm put on the spot to try and save this country that I don't even _like_! Hell, I shouldn't be in this nation in the first place. I should be back in Bandle City without a care in the world and spending my free time in my workshop. So, if you've got any ideas, then tell me…"

Rumble stopped. "That's enough Rumble. We get it…" Poppy's voice sounded sad. Only now did he realize his problems were nothing compared to hers. He didn't know how or if he could recover from surviving a fallout like that and seeing a likeable fellow champion die to a traitor, and finding out the nation she would die for is on the verge of dying. Guilt formed in Rumble's gut.

"I'm sorry. It's just been stressful," Rumble sighed, rubbing his eyes.

The owner scratched the back of his graying head. "Ok, say this is the plan. How do you know it will work?" the owner fidgeted. Rumble grinned.

"As a boy, I accompanied my father to Ionia for the technical research its nation had to offer." The boy laughed. "That government creates a power vacuum on an almost annual basis. Like drawing straws too often."

"Um…" Poppy raised her hand slightly. Rumble turned around.

"What is it, Poppy?"

Poppy shifted awkwardly. "What's a…power vacuum?"

Rumble blinked. "You said you're eighteen, right?" Poppy nodded. "You ever graduate high school?" Poppy remained silent, making Rumble slump his shoulders. "How far can you count?" Poppy flattened her hand, counting the fingers on her hands.

"1, 2…" she said, counting until she paused, frowning. "2…" she continued, clearly confused. Rumble groaned, slapping his forehead.

"Never mind. Let's just establish a plan, so we don't have to deal with a bunch of crazed Demacians." The group's ears perked up from a scream. Then, a chain reaction of yells and fearful outcries exploded outside. Poppy and Rumble glanced at each other, nodding. The two champions burst through the gazette's door, Rumble prepared to fight inside his mech in mere seconds. Poppy was approached by Jonas, given her new armor: double leathered padding with silver outlines, shoulder plates, and knee plates. She gave her thanks to the blacksmith, then rushed to Rumble's side, who already stood outside the village. One sight told them all about the reason for the villagers' fear, and its cause. Rumble tsked. It was a reason that was going to be giant pain in his ass.

The plains burned, fire swallowing the grassy fields. The large wildfire quickly approached the village. But both the yordles knew this was no natural fire. The champions ran outside the borders of the village, positioning in battle stances. Poppy lifted her hammer, slamming its head against the ground as a voice could be heard from behind Rumble.

"Boy, wait! We can help! Let us help you wash it out!" he called out, a pack of villagers at his back carrying buckets of water.

"NO! STAY BACK!" Rumble ordered, turning his head back momentarily. "ALL OF YOU NEED TO GET AWAY FROM HERE! RIGHT NOW!" Then the unfocused silhouette in the flames appeared.

"Ready to set the world on fire. Heheheh…" the figure laughed evilly. Poppy and Rumble stood their ground, but not all their nerves were as courageous. The hungry flames bulged slightly, giving way to the form that passed through. The creature wore brown pants that had several black buckles on each calf, torn and shredded at the knees. Its volcanic-like skin pulsed heat, the lava inside the magma's cracks boiling instead of blood. It was bald, except for the flickering flames drifting above its head. It's solid hot orange eyes burned with twisted joy and anticipation.

"I hoped I'd never have to fight Brand outside the Rift," Rumble said gravely. Poppy nodded.

"Me too."

The molten man stepped closer to the village, the ground scorched from his footsteps and disintegrating the grass underfoot. Brand eyed the yordles snakelike, sparks dancing through his fingertips. He pointed at Poppy's armor, dipping his head sideways. "Is that fireproof?" Brand mocked, lighting an ember in his palm. The girl tightened her grip on her oversized weapon. Rumble pulled a lever, launching several wicked-edged harpoons at Brand. The humanoid fireball arced his arm upwards, a thick wall of flame erupting from the ground and incinerating the harpoons. Rumble cursed, causing Brand to smirk deviously.

"Too long I spent in that damn magic circle," Brand reminisced, spitting out a wad of lava. "I wish I could've killed that bitch Lux myself." His volcanic lips curved into a crooked grin. "At least I get the pleasure of knowing that she burned to a crisp like the cursed witch she was," Brand cackled maniacally. Poppy's eyes widened. It was true. Brand fled his prison from the Institute, and the capital was between the village and the League, meaning he would know what would've happened to her. Poppy roared, charging with an ignited fury, catching Rumble off guard. Brand snickered, putting his foot back in a fighting stance. She slammed the ground in front of the fire being with such a force it shattered the ground. Brand sidestepped, extending his arm forward while a pillar of fire formed and smashed into Poppy square in the chest.

The yordle flew a short distance, collapsing on the ground. Poppy winced, twitching on the ground. Her lungs hurt, the leather armor she wore burning off a layer and flaring her concealed skin. Rumble growled, anger bubbling from his friend's pain. Brand launched a fireball at Rumble, shattering into tiny sparks as it collided with a quickly thrown up force field. Rumble pulled two levers in front of him, firing a barrage of harpoons at Brand. It was to no avail however, as the fire mage carelessly walked forward, his fiery aura melting any steel rod that was launched in his direction.

Brand swiped his hands upward, barriers of fire cutting off any exits for Rumble. The yordle teen gritted his teeth, turning on his flamethrower and throwing his mace fist toward Brand. Half of the mace melted from Brand's aura before Rumble retracted it. Meanwhile, the waving embers turned on itself, backfiring on Rumble. He barely had any time to throw his shield back up in response, the redirected attack reflecting off Rumble's defenses in multiple directions. Brand howled with laughter from disbelief.

"You think the heat can hurt _me_?" Brand jabbed, blasting a series of fireballs at the pressured shield. "Any last words before you go up in smoke, runt?"

"Go back to hell, you flaming pile of shit."

Brand propelled backward, tumbling on the now scorched grass. Rumble and Poppy changed their gaze toward the attacker. Magic blue residue dripped from the mage's hand. The yordles' eyes lit up with joy.

"It's about time your fire was put out, Brand," Ryze fervently spoke. Backup arrived.

 **Ryze has entered the fray! How will the heroes fight the escaped convicts? Hold on for later chapters! Side Note: Please review on how I should improve my speech writing or battle writing if you can. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5: Flared Embers

**Though I've been posting daily so far, I might not post as often now that Final Fantasy XV is releasing tomorrow, and I intend to grind those hours out. Be assured though, that I am far from abandoning this story. I have thoroughly enjoyed positive reactions from readers and my response is to give me more and more reviews! Well, enough dialogue from me. Enjoy reading!**

"It's about time your fire was extinguished, Brand," Ryze fervently spoke.

Brand slowly got to his feet, rumbling with anger. "Ryze! I've been waiting for this day! I'll grill you into smolders!" He screamed with hatred. The molten man had approached the mountain town Poppy and Rumble resided in. Poppy dropped her heavy hammer, hands shaking as hot leather burned her chest. Rumble glanced at Poppy, then back to the two mages. He jumped out of the mech, rushing to Poppy's side. Though she started to refuse, Rumble shook his head. Her arm over his shoulder, Rumble guided the weak Poppy back into the town, where several onlooking villagers stared at the scene with unease.

"Where's the town doctor?" Rumble called out. The crowd narrowly parted as a man in a white coat walked toward the yordle. "Take care of her." The doctor ordered for water, pulling on thick gloves and removing the superheated leather armor. He pulled out some scissors from his coat pocket, cutting off most of Poppy's undershirt, a few children approaching the doctor with water. Her bare skin was revealed, but not too much to where her breasts were exposed. The middle of her chest was an angry red. Rumble turned red, looking away from the vulnerable Poppy and her plump chest. A fragile hand touched Rumble's, jolting him.

"Be careful out there," Poppy said softly, trying to smile but failing. Her face grimaced in pain as her skin sizzled by the pouring water on her burns. Rumble grinned.

"Don't worry about me. I've still got one last secret weapon against Hot Pants," Rumble joked, rushing back to his mech and into battle. Poppy smiled faintly. She never expected to bond with the secluded yordle she saw in the Institute, even if she only properly met him this morning. Poppy closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall into unconsciousness. Meanwhile, Ryze and Brand fiercely battled, each attack colliding with the other and canceling it out. The mage kneeled to the ground, slapping his palm against the flat surface. The ground around Brand shined, blue highlights forming in a magic circle.

"Let's see you take this!" Ryze called out. The blue circle flared brighter, exploding under Brand's feet. The volcanic humanoid flipped through the air. Brand grunted, in mid-air swiping his extended arms across each other when he faced Ryze. Parallel cylinders of flame formed, beelining for the wizard. Ryze dove out of the way. He stood, temples sweating, trying to ignore the severe shading the skin on the front side of his arm just undertook. He hastily moved his hand in a zigzagging motion over the burned arm. Dense blue liquid wrapped itself around the burn, acting as a bandage. Brand scowled.

"Your attempts are futile, wizard," the molten man said. "I'm a pure force of nature. I will keep coming without need of rest. Your ashes will be indistinguishable from that town's soon to be incinerated foundation." Ryze scoffed.

"You're a simple-minded being filled with anger towards life. The threat you bring is childlike compared to the monsters I fought in the past," Ryze shot back. "You may have been birthed in the ruins of the Rune Wars, but you still haven't learned how the world works. You're just a bitter child that wants the world to feel the same pain you felt when you lost your brother and parents. The penalty for your sins has been long overdue, Kanan."

Brand's face twisted into rage, magma skin cracking wider from the action. "Don't call me that!" he howled, blasting an enormous fireball several times bigger than the mage at Ryze. Ryze opened his spellbook, drawing out the magic inside and fired the miniscule bullet. Ryze's magic pierced the fireball's center, reached the core of the attack and bursted outward, imploding the fireball. The human torch elevated in outrage, roaring and blowing fire upward out of his mouth. Columns of ember exploded across the plains, frightening the villagers.

"The world will end in fire, and I will light the flame!" Brand rumbled. "You can't stop me, Ryze. Not then, and not now. You and the Keeper of the Hammer will burn." Ryze raised an eyebrow.

"What do you want with Poppy?" the Ryze demanded. Bundles of sparks flickered more violently from Brand's body.

"I was told to kill her. So, I must," Brand stated.

"Who wants her dead? Since when do you follow orders?" Ryze questioned. Brand cried out in frustration.

"They told me too," He said, clutching his head, appearing to be in mental pain. "I…I have to kill her. To burn EVERYTHING!" Flames formed in Brands palm, booming toward the mage. Ryze launched a counter attack, parrying the flames with Overload bolts. Harpoons arced through the air, melting at Brand's heated aura. This threw off Brand's focus for a second, just enough time for Ryze to mark Brand with Flux. The mage created a rune cage around Brand. That's when the onslaught began.

Rumble punched a red button in the robot's cockpit, rockets launching from its back holsters. The Equalizer rockets tunneled into the grounded at the cage's location, Brand screaming in pain. Ryze joined as well, fluxing Brand repeatedly and firing Overload bolts at the enemy. Brand breathed heavily, scowling. His aura grew hotter and almost burst outward in defense. But the cage dropped mere seconds before, a thick-faced hammer smashing into Brand's cheek. The force of the strike boomed loudly, blasting Brand several hundred yards away, his initial fall cratering into the bare earth.

Rumble grinned, giving a thumbs-up. Poppy gasped, little cloth covering her upper torso as she leaned against her weapon. The armored pants she still wore were partially stained a faint black. Ryze approached the foe. Brand rose from the crater, grotesquely cracking his crooked head and jaw back into place. "You won't be hurting anyone else, ever again," Ryze said. The mage spoke an incantation, blue shackles creating around Brand's limbs. Brand seethed.

"Don't be so cocky, spell weaver. I will end the world in fire!" Brand warned threateningly. Poppy leaned against Rumble for support. Ryze conjured magic letters in his hands, moving them in a circular motion. Reality tore in on itself, creating a large gateway to the astral plane. The rift was large and unstable, the two yordles gawking at its sudden appearance.

"You no longer deserve to walk in the world of men. Be gone." Ryze ordered gruffly. Brand was sucked into the rift, resisting and yelling even when he was inside the new dimension. The rift collapsed, zipping up and unifying back with reality, purging Brand from current existence.

"Thanks, Ryze," Rumble said, an arm belonging to a limp Poppy held over his shoulder. The mage waved his hand.

"That creature had a long time coming to be removed from this dimension."

A memory crossed Rumble's mind, a thought he wanted to question Ryze about. "You sounded like you knew Brand personally, what's with that?" the boy asked. Ryze shook his head.

"Just a relic in my long, muddled past."

* * *

Rumble walked into the bedroom with a meal tray over his head, arms shakily trying to keep the meal from moving too much. Poppy lay in bed again, tracing Rumble's footsteps. With difficulty, the mechanic placed the tray on the bedside table. "You've done a lot of things for me the past few days," Poppy observed. "Why?"

Rumble shrugged, getting up on the bed with Poppy. "Maybe because I'm a good person at heart. Maybe it's because after spending a year living in this human village, I'm happy to finally see another yordle. Maybe it's because you're too beautiful not to…" Poppy gulped, blushing.

"What'd you just say?" she squeaked. This confused Rumble, a few seconds later realizing the cause to her reaction. "Uh, um…did I say that aloud? Rumble stammered nervously. Poppy nodded. The boy turned the same shade of red as Poppy. There was an awkward silence. Breaking the silence, Poppy gestured for her dinner, digging into the mashed potatoes and chicken leg on the plate.

The day before, the two yordles witnessed a monster that intimidated the entire League in the past get sucked out of existence. In the meantime, Ryze had returned to wherever he wandered, but not before enlightening Poppy of certain events. As she recovered from her injuries, she contemplated the want for a target on her head. "Do you have any idea why Brand was out for my blood?" Poppy asked. Rumble shook his head.

"To be honest, I still can't think straight after I almost charbroiled yesterday," he replied. "I assumed Brand stumbled across the village and coincidentally found us. I can't come up with a basic generalization as to why you specifically would be targeted." Rumble bit into his own leg of meat, grease dripping from his chin. Poppy laid back into her pillow, putting the tray back on the bedside table. Could it have something to do with what happened that night, Poppy pondered.

"You know we'll have to look for survivors soon. Who knows when Valoran will plunge into chaos," Rumble reminded. Poppy nodded feebly.

"But do we even know where to start?" Poppy replied, pulling the covers further up her body. "For all we know, no one is still alive from the capital attack." Rumble shook his head.

"I believe what Ryze said. If we can find them, then maybe we can stop any further destruction Orus or those escaped champions might create." A memory floated into Rumble's thinking. "Maybe we can use what Ryze gave us," he said, reaching into his pants pocket. He retrieved a smooth stone with an odd engraving on its surface.

"Any idea how to use it?" asked Poppy.

"Not a clue," Rumble responded. His fingers glided across its flat, soft surface. Suddenly, a list magically formed, shocking the yordles with surprise. Rumble examined the list, attempting to figure out how to use the list. He tested swiping his finger down, satisfied with a succeeded result. Next, he swiped his finger sideways, narrowing down the status of current champions. Hope reignited in the yordles' eyes.

"We just might still have a chance," Rumble grinned.

* * *

The scorched black buildings keeled over in a delipidated state. Bodies burned, chopped to pieces, or crushed under rubble filled the stone street. The tall hooded figure passed by, trying to ignore the painful sight. Even the thin cloth armor and tattered brown shawl the person wore felt hot in the smoldering aftermath. The grand marble palace the figure remembered as a child now appeared pitiful, the walls and architectural beauties now crippled and soot-stained. Those delightful memories the person harbored now shredded by tragedy.

The mountains that distinguished Demacia were disfigured by landslides, some parts of the nation's spine warping into sad hills. The hooded figure searched for any sign of life, stumbling across memorable memorials along the way that now were torn down. Once, the towering statue of King Jarvan I could be seen across the capital's horizon. Now, the memorial appeared mortal, as many pieces of the statue were broken off and some disappeared altogether. Friends of the cloaked human who attended the glorious Merlin School for Spellcraft and Relic Forging the figure assumed were dead inside the ugly remains of the structure. The previous life she had, and any hopes of returning with honor, were all but extinguished.

The cloaked human placed the shawl over mouth, trying not to breath in the smoke. She searched in almost every part of the city, unable to find any present souls residing in this world. Tears dripped from her face as currently the figure could find no survivors in this massacre. To think, she had wandered back to this place she was banished from, trying to rekindle memories. But all she found was the horrors of the future.

She strode on the stone path, climbing the hill to the capital's city hall. Her eyes darted, locking onto a gloved hand. Hope and anxiousness consumed all other emotions, sprinting toward the glove. When she reached her destination, she saw a giant of a man sprawled out across the marble pavilion, draped in golden outlined armor and a blue undershirt exposed as most of the top layer of armor in the chest area was gone. His short brown hair and face were covered in ash. An intimidating broadsword lay in his outstretched hand. He was badly wounded, the worst of his wounds a jagged chunk of metal plunged into his left eye.

"The hell happened to you, Garen?" the figure wondered aloud, pained by his injuries. She felt for a pulse, and waves of relief came over her as she found a faint, but very much alive beat. Peering at her surroundings, she spotted another silhouette. "Don't worry, I'll be right back." She assured, rushing off to the sight that caught her eye.

Turning around a corner of a large pile of rubble, all the woman found was a torched black corpse, features unrecognizable to any human due to excessive burn damage. Next to the dead body, the figure picked up two sticks. At one point, they seemed to have been one, but must've been snapped in the attack. The gilded edges of each end of the sticks contained familiar diamond prisms. However, the prisms, though they may have shined at one point, now reflected nothing, its beauty completely sapped. The figure glanced at what she assumed was a wand, then back to what she assumed to be its owner. Guilt and regret filled her stomach as she recognized the otherwise unidentifiable corpse.

She rushed back to Garen's side, putting the broken wand away in one of the many pouches on her belt. "C'mon buddy, stay with me. You'll feel better soon, just hold on a little longer," she begged, hoisting the unconscious Garen's arm over her shoulder. A wind passed through, making the brown shawl to fall to the figure's neck and the hood backward. Short, unkempt white hair unveiled, the cloak she wore blowing back in the breeze and revealing a broken black blade tied to her body. Riven was grateful she found Garen that day, but sorrowed at how no other living citizen or noble was left in the capital.

 **You assumed this story was going to be solely focused around Rumble and Poppy? Hell no! It's about time someone started world-building in this community, and I'll be the brave one to tackle this tall task! And yes, if anyone points out the contradictions in lore to where Riven is originally from Noxus and not Demacia, I changed up that lore so the reasoning for her fall from grace was easier to understand and I believe my plan for establishing different lores across Runeterra will spice up the story. So as always, thanks for reading my unknown workers, and please write a review! Till the next chapter, see ya!**


	6. Chapter 6: Kindled Pasts

**I'm so sorry this came out so late (almost a week!). Final Fantasy XV is just too good to simply put the controller down. Some of you must be jumping for joy after anxiously waiting for this chapter to release. Well I'll try to spend a little more free time to work on this story. Please drop reviews, they are very much appreciated!**

Riven slouched over her knees, positioning firewood on the lazy flames with a short, thick stick. The cave was oval like in shape, uneven on the sides and rounding out, making the area small and cozy. Precipitation dripped from the ceiling. The cool night breeze flowed into the cavern, contrasting the warm fire. Braided vines covered most of the cave's entrance. Garen breathed quietly on Riven's sleeping bag, a makeshift bandage dressed over his left eye. His gigantic, limp frame was difficult to move even with someone of Riven's above-average strength. Garen's thick armor lay in pieces in a corner. The Exile threw another log on the already exhausted fire.

From a few days' travel, Riven reached the outskirts of Demacia, residing in the thick, mountainous forests of its borders. Carrying Garen the whole way took a toll on her body, as she was severely weakened from his massive 6'6 frame. She had passed no one on her journey through the valleys and hills. She had found this cave near the canal of the Serpentine River, taking huge gulps of water from its calm stream. Riven glanced at the warrior's figure. Although she wasn't trained enough in combat aid, she knew enough to change out bandages as for Garen's already serious injury to not be worsened by infection.

Riven wished she didn't have to meet Garen again like this. The obnoxious loudmouth of a child she grew up with turned into what Riven expected, but never imagined this is what he'd end up as. She smiled, slightly pleasing her as the childhood memories with him swirled in her head. Riven grabbed a skin, slipping the water down her throat. Her strongest memory was one that changed her life. Though years had passed, the fragment was still vivid in her brain.

A five-year-old orphan sat next to the bakery entrance. Her brown rags were filthy and ragged, ignoring the upraised noses of the rich and nobility that passed her on the marble street. Even though the child begged for food from the bakery, people in the capital city were stingy and either scowled briefly at the homeless orphan then left, or simply passed by without a second thought. Her belly growled anxiously. The only thing pure on her dirty body was her mostly white hair, short and unwashed.

She was shown no kindness in her miserable life, escaping her abusive whore of a mother from the slums. The next few weeks were brutal, usually scavenging for scraps in the city's back alleys. Her tears had long since dried out, an empty hole in her chest. But for some reason, the girl refused to occupy that space with bitterness, just leaving it empty for something hopeful to come along. On that day, she wondered if that hopeful thought would never come true. Then, the thick market crowd stood to the edge of the road, grabbing the attention of the road.

Riven peered behind someone's pant leg, searching for whatever parted the crowd. Then, she spotted a group of people striding down the street. They were very nicely dressed, a beautiful middle-aged lady in a flowing white dress and matching wide-brimmed summer hat accompanying a tall, thick man in an elegant tuxedo. Behind them, two small children followed. One with a matching tuxedo that Riven assumed was the man's son, and a short red dress for the younger blond girl that walked with the son. The orphan envied their luxury of excellent and clean clothing.

The four passed, Riven almost returning to her pitiful stupor before she was approached. It was the boy, wide-eyed with curiosity. "Mother, why does this girl wear such poor attire?" the boy asked. The lady and man turned around. She gave a face Riven recognized well.

"Come on, Garen, get away from her. You don't need to be dirtied by homeless scum," she said, causing Riven to be self-consciously bitter.

"She's homeless? Why doesn't everyone have a home here? You said this city was great and happy," the boy named Garen bit his lip. His mother frowned.

"Get over here now, Garen. You need not confer with the poor and infect yourself," she urged him. Garen scowled.

"No! Don't you see how hungry this girl is?" Garen fired back, surprising his parents, who likely had never heard this kind of response from their son. "Her life must be terrible." Riven gritted her teeth, annoyed how he stated the obvious in front of her face. But then her anger washed away from Garen's words. "She's coming with us. She's coming home."

Riven froze, eyes following Garen as her turned and smiled at her reassuringly. "Don't worry now. You won't be hungry soon. Promise," he said, grabbing her hand and running off down the street. Garen's parents and sister were stunned, unable to refuse as Garen guided Riven further up into the rich district. After minutes of sprinting and heavy breathing, the orphan stood speechless in front of a glorious manor. The mansion was positioned in the residential district on the climbing hill, only a few blocks away from the royal palace. Its gates were positioned on the only flat area of the rising mountain. Marble pillars held up the balcony for the breathtaking white manor. Garen smiled.

"What do you think?" he asked, laughing with glee.

Tears streamed from the child's eyes. "It's beautiful…" she whispered. Garen placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it affectionately.

"This is my home. And now, it's yours too." Garen beamed when a thought occurred to him. "By the way, I never asked for your name. Mine's Garen Crownguard. May I ask what yours is?" Riven smiled.

"Riven," she said quietly, still unable to comprehend this great blessing. Maybe the hole in her heart had finally been filled.

The older woman smiled, provoking the lax flames once again. That day, her life of misery and scavenging were over, and her life began as one of the Crownguards. "Please hold still," the annoyed maids persisted, scrubbing down the filthy child in an oversized bathtub. The maids and Garen's mother didn't care for Riven at all, considering she was born in the slums and was not of noble blood. Also, Riven had no training in manners or etiquette, scarfing down any meal she had, for example a turkey leg one night, with her bare hands. This appalled the lady of the house, but her son beamed at it, following in her example. This home invasion screwed with the controlling woman, yet Riven grew on Garen's father: Lord Crownguard.

One day, the lord approached her. "You don't seem to like the traits of being a lady. Is there something wrong?" he asked. Riven nodded.

"Too formal, my lord," Riven said, almost forgetting to be polite to her adoptive father. She swayed her long dress unladylike, grasping the edges with her white fingers. "It's so hard to move around in. I don't feel right in this." The man nodded.

"Well then, child, why don't you come with me?" he asked. Filled with curiosity, Riven followed the man, striding through the polished oak hallways decorated with artifacts and pictures, turning corners until she entered a small multi-purpose room. The floor was tiled with narrow peach-colored wooden planks. On a wall, weapons ranging from bludgeoning hammers and shining swords were hanging on a rack. Riven had never seen a room quite like this.

"What is this room, my lord?" Riven inquired, gazing at the weapons on the wall.

The man smiled. "This is our training room. It is where Garen comes to learn swordcraft each evening," he informed, favoring a crisp longsword, caressing the blade with his finger. Riven contorted in confusion.

"So then, what am I doing here?"

The man chuckled in his throat. "Why, you said you don't enjoy the perks of being a lady. So why don't you try the role of a man?" Riven hesitantly agreed, from hence on enduring vigorous training with Garen under the tutelage of his father. The practice went on for years, transforming Riven not into the mannerly lady that was expected of her, rather turning into a tough, hardened warrior that by age seventeen joined the Demacian military and quickly advanced in its ranks. Because of Garen's father, Riven was the person she was today. Rough, strong, durable, and battle smart. She owed a lot to him, saddening her when he passed away a year before she joined the army. Of the household, the only adult that favored Riven was Lord Crownguard.

A rustling sound shook Riven out of reminiscence, seeing Garen groan, rubbing his face. Joy swept silently over Riven's body, knowing her childhood friend was no longer comatose. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Riven smirked. Garen's eye turned to her voice, shock immediately arousing. "How you feeling?"

Garen frowned. "What are you doing here, Riven? You were never to return, you were banished. If the nobles found out you're here, they'd execute you on the spot." Riven shook her head, sighing sadly.

"Demacia's gone, Garen," she dreadfully informed. "So many people died."

The warrior's brow scrunched up. "No way," he denied flatly. "Demacia is the strongest nation in Valoran. To tell me it's gone, it is foolish and a waste of my time." Garen attempted standing, realizing his state when his knees buckled and dropped back onto the ground. He sucked air through his teeth in pain, his hands running over his weak legs. He eyed Riven accusingly.

"Why did you kidnap me? What did you do to my body?" he spat angrily.

"Must I repeat myself, you stubborn jackass?" Riven groaned in frustration. "The capital city was attacked, and I pulled you from the rubble. You're welcome, by the way." Garen's eyes narrowed, still stout in unbelief. Riven still had one more statement that could break that blunt head of his. "How else could you have lost your eye?"

This caught Garen off guard, pressing his fingers against the wrapped cloth on his head, noticing for the first time only one eye functioned, while the other lay dead behind bandages. Any remaining doubts the man had drifted away. Riven was pleased she didn't need to press any further, well knowing for years how hard it was to break his thick skull. "What happened to the capital? Where am I? What happened to the king and the people?" he fired all at once.

Riven scratched the back of her head. "Currently, we are on the outskirts of Demacia. I have no idea what occurred in the city, I was simply passing by when I saw the fires from the mountains," Riven shivered, uncomfortable memories of the massacre floating to the surface. "What I do know was that it was a slaughter. A lot of people died, Garen. I'm also betting the king and the prince did as well."

Garen gritted his teeth. "Do you know what happened to my sister?"

Riven looked away, angering the man. "What happened to my sister, Riven?!" He roared, grabbing her shoulders, and shaking them. The Exile almost painfully stared into the frantic eyes of her friend, globs of tears escaping her eyes. Garen's eye followed her hand as she reached for her leather pack, pulling out two ashen, decorated sticks. His eyes drooped.

"H-her broken wand was the only way I could identify the unrecognizable corpse," Riven sniffled.

Garen let go of her, slumping weakly back into the wall. Riven then jumped as Garen slammed his fist against the wall, splintering the rock into a fragmented crater, violently shaking the cavern. His mouth shivered uncontrollably. "Who did this…?" Garen asked faintly. Riven shook her head, wiping her nose on her arm. He gritted his teeth, jaw still trembling.

"Well when I find them, they better be prepared to die. I'll break every limb in their bodies before I drop a boulder on their heads," the warrior growled, his clenched fist shaking slightly. There was a long silence. The fire flickered, light dancing inside the cave and contrasting the moonless night outside. Riven rubbed her eyes.

"We've been traveling for about two days," Riven sniffed, aggravating the flames again with a twig. "The League needs to know about this, and only they have the firepower to snap back at such a large-scale declaration of war." Garen reached over near Riven, grabbing a small ration of bread, and chomping into it. "We're about a day's journey from the Institute."

Garen swallowed, grabbing another piece. "What then? Even I know it's foolish to battle an unseen enemy." Riven shrugged.

"Guess we'll have to wait and see what the summoners say."

A sound outside caught the attention of the two, caution filling their spines as muscle memory. Footsteps replaced the silence, the canopy of vines hiding the cave's entrance parting and taking both Garen and Riven aback in surprise. Standing at their doorstep, was the grease monkey, Rumble, and a heavily armored Poppy. The yordle boy grinned.

"How's it going?" he waved. "Who wants to avenge the League?"

* * *

The Shuriman trekked across the swaying plains, his wide, black crescent blade outlined in jagged bone resting on his shoulder. It had been so long since he had seen the moonlight. His bare, three-toed feet in pleasure as they strode hastily across the long grass. He took deep breaths of fresh air, unable to recall the last time he previously had that luxury. It had been so long since he'd been out in the world. At least his time in that cell in the Institute was detention compared to the time he had spent inside the black tomb with that, _demon_.

When he awoke, freed from his captivity, a cloaked man approached him, informing the Shuriman on where to head off to after his freedom. At first, he declined with a snarl, threatening the man with rows of long, curved back teeth. "No need to be growling, Renekton. After all, I know where your brother is," the man said, his tongue the Shuriman knew as deceiving and reptilian. Renekton continued to deny him, until he was given proof. A tear in the space between the two formed, portraying an image of birds flying over prideful temples, surrounded by dense woodland. The scent of his despised brother wafted into Renekton's nose, clearly coming from the origin of these images.

"Your brother is there. If you want to slay him by your own hand, go to Ionia. Spread chaos to him and the Kinkou Order." Currently, Renekton sprinted across the flat plains. His Ascension was beneficial to his speed, moving several times faster than he could have ever imagined as a human. A burning hatred boiled in the Shuriman's eyes. He was going to kill his back-stabbing brother for imprisoning him with that wicked beast. Payback for what Renekton assumed millennia spent inside that black chasm under the sand.

Before he left the ruins of the Institute, the cloaked figure handed the Ascended warrior his favorited weapon. The figure's sleeve parted back, showing Renekton rough purple skin with a hand that had menacing blades fused into its fingers. Under the cover of night, the only thing Renekton saw on its face was its twisting, fanged smile. "It's about time Runeterra remembered the pain it suffered from the Scourge of the Desert. Nasus will not survive your fury," the figure chuckled maliciously.

Damn right the world would remember who Renekton was. And that damned brother of his would remember how terrifying and ferocious the humanoid crocodile was on the battlefield. A cool breeze flowed past the Ascended's face. Renekton's long snout stretched at the edges by his wicked grin. After all, you don't get a title like the Butcher of the Sands for nothing.

 **I know some of you might be squirming about how not much is written through Poppy's point of view, the main heroine of this story. How the majority of the story so far has been through Rumble's eyes. I'd like to say next chapter and chapters to come I will be getting Poppy's thoughts and emotions on digital paper. But so far, the cast has been established and the subplot for intercepting the convicts has formed. Before you leave, I'd like to say thank you again for taking time out of your day to read my unknown works. Please drop those reviews! Until next chapter, guys.**


	7. Chapter 7: Tragic Origin

**Hey guys, DL here.**

 **I hope this slightly longer chapter will make up for my absence of writing. Please give me reviews if you have thoughts. Enjoy reading!**

"Papa, when can I make hammers and armor that are as good as yours?" the small girl asked.

Her father laughed. His thick, cream-colored mustache that flowed outwardly at the ends defined the short blue man. The goggles positioned on his forehead were covered in grit and smoke. His hair originally was the same color as his facial hair, but so much time spent in the forge permanently stained the man's hair, black shading that lined in slivers on top of the man's head. For a yordle, the man was uncommonly muscular, thanks in part to grinding against raw ore with his hammer in his shop. For a middle-aged man, he surprisingly retained his youthful looks, his handsomeness on full display in all its glory if not for the coal dust that always smudged on his cheeks.

"Don't worry my little flower," the man smiled warmly, rubbing his girl's hair playfully. "I know someday, one day, the world will take a breath in awe of your forging talent. Your works will be known in the highlands of Demacia to the metropolises like Piltover. Your time will come, Poppy." His daughter beamed up at him inside his workshop, built inside downtown Bandle City. To the blacksmith, his only child was his joy and life.

"Just watch me Papa, I'll be the greatest blacksmith in the land!" She jumped on the balls of her feet, causing her father to chuckle.

"I have no doubt you will be. Now head up to the kitchen, I'll make dinner in half an hour."

The yordle girl headed back up the winding staircase, leaving her father back to his work. Her pigtails bounced in the air as she sprinted up the steps. It was a simple life. Her mother had passed away when she was born, leaving the busybody blacksmith to take care of a child by himself. Poppy's days were spent watching her father's sweat sizzle off the steaming metal, the metal bludgeoned as it rested inside the stone mold. Though she was still young, she had showed talent and made metalworks on a smaller scale, crafting bronze ornaments that decorated her bedroom and the rest of her home. Her father was one of the finest blacksmiths in the city of techmaturgy geniuses. The family not only got by but thrived off the constant business of the Bandle City mercenaries and military.

The girl glanced at the hammer laid low on the wall. Such a large hammer was something her father told her was destined to be wielded by one of the strongest warriors in Valoran. From the hammer's sheer size, which was more than double the length of Poppy's height, the child assumed the biggest of humans that were fated to pair with the beautiful, golden lined weapon. It was almost mythical to the yordle girl. Maybe one day, she could make a hammer as glorious as the one laid on the wall.

In the past, she had asked her father if he made such a hammer. The man chuckled. "As good of a smith as I, such a man like me could never have made it." To that, she asked how she came to acquire the hammer. "It has been passed down through our family for generations," he explained, his daughter sitting on his lap in his big leather chair. "Our line are the keepers of this mighty hammer, so that one day the rightful owner will return and reclaim it. With it, it is prophesied that the rightful owner will bring light back to the world and save Runeterra." His legends and stories always enticed the young yordle, giddy with glee whenever her father had time to preach their tales. Her dream and undeniable future was to follow in her father's giant footsteps.

* * *

"So, that was what your childhood was like?" Rumble asked, leaning in to hear more. Poppy and Rumble lay against the thick, adjacent oak trees. Garen and Riven slept near the fire, appearing dim from the two yordles' distance. Everyone excluding Rumble traveled horseback for the past two days, on the verge of entering the land of port cities and coastlines. With Ryze busy investigating the whereabouts of Orus' location, the group of four made their way across the terrain, and were one step closer to the one place that could weaken their unknown enemy: defending Ionia. Though the human champions were surprised at first, they quickly hopped aboard the caravan. The more champions, the better the odds of fending off an attack from another convict.

"Yeah," Poppy said, her back resting against the tree, parallel to Rumble's similar position. "I was the daughter of a blacksmith, and I grew up without a mother. My father always told me I would be one of the finest smiths Bandle City ever produced." Rumble laughed pitifully, reflecting on his own family.

"My dad was a brilliant scientist and mechanic, who was one of Heimerdinger's original partners in making what Bandle City is today," Rumble told her, scratching the back of his slick-haired head. "My mom left us when I was little. Any bonding time I ever had with my father was when he took me on research trips. Otherwise, he was hauled in the lab either with a myriad of partners or working by himself. That left me mostly on my own, I guess." Poppy massaged one of her long pigtails.

"Wow, I never knew. What happened to him?" She asked.

"Because of my mom leaving him, he fell into alcoholism," Rumble informed. "He never attacked me or anything, but his work always kept him occupied and left no time for his own son, turning to that stuff to calm his depression. So, I had no father figure growing up. I was almost completely alone as a child, and it didn't help that I was a runt among the kids my age. I was constantly bullied. It was a year before I made my robot when my dad died of a sickness. Because of that, I had no relatives and no family left. I was completely alone before I joined the League." Rumble sighed. "Even then, I still felt isolated." His eyes turned back to Poppy, who now had a pained expression on her face.

"That sounds rough. I'm sorry, Rumble," she tried to help, but feeling awkward in the process. Rumble waved it off.

"No big deal. I was a loner most of my life. I mean, that was it."

Poppy looked over at Whomper, who sat on the forest floor next to her leg. "I was alone too before I entered the League," she said, pulling on the grass. This caught Rumble's attention.

"Really? What happened to your father?"

Painful memories surfaced. "There was a day when my father was invited to the Royal Palace of Demacia, to display his craftsmanship to the king. He brought the hammer along as well, so that maybe the rightful owner was in the king's court or military. But that journey was where my childhood ended." Poppy sniffed, rubbing her eye. "I was only eleven. I didn't deserve the consequences of that day."

* * *

The blacksmith sat in the back of the wagon with his daughter, between them a black case containing the legendary weapon. The caravan tromped across the dirt highway. The line of wagons contained many of Poppy's father's finest creations, escorted by many human soldiers. At first, Poppy was uncomfortable, surrounded by so many that towered over her small frame. "There's nothing to be afraid of, my little flower," her father said reassuringly. "From this trip, you'll learn of the great wonders of the world. Better than you could ever imagine, right outside Bandle City."

The waking sun yawned over the woodland horizon. The caravan moved as usual down the highway, passing some fellow humans periodically on their travel. Poppy was too shy to interact with any humans, residing only in her father for the trip. The forest bustled with animal noises, scaring the girl. The blacksmith chuckled. "Those are just animals waking up and looking for breakfast. They won't hurt you," He said, handing Poppy her own breakfast ration of bread. The child eagerly chomped into it. It was a peaceful morning. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

A cry could be heard from the start of the caravan, followed by the frightened neighs of horses. Then, the cries multiplied across the wagons. Smoke drifted into Poppy's noise, making her cough. Suddenly, two man draped in black hopped onto the footholds of either side of the wagon. Their beady eyes locked onto the yordles. "Good mornin', how bout you hand over all yer stuff, and we'll just be on our way," one snickered in a funny accent, flipping a curved knife in his hand.

"If you don't, not only will we take it by force, you'll be left looking worse than carved turkeys," the other warned with a malevolent smile." In the blink of an eye the bandit on the back of the wagon fell backward, landing hard on the jagged gravel. Poppy's father whipped around, pulling the other bandit by the scruff of the cloak and plunged the hammer's face into his gut. A wheezing gasp escaped the marauder, keeling over before the blacksmith lifted his thick hammer in the air before dropping it on the man's head with an almost deafening crunch. Poppy's father threw the bandit out of the wagon, a puddle of blood forming around the corpse's wound. The blacksmith turned back to his daughter with terror in his eyes.

"Poppy, take this and don't look back," he said with a great sense of urgency. "Run away from here as fast as you can. Protect yourself and the hammer." A worried look crossed Poppy's face.

"But what about you, Papa? Why can't you come with me?"

The man sighed. "I can't, my girl. I will distract them so they won't notice you flee." Tears filled the child's eyes.

"I can't leave you, Papa!" she sobbed, hugging her father. Her cries were barely audible among the screams of dying men outside, chaos booming loudly on the highway. A sad smile formed on the smith's pained face.

"You have to. You are now the Keeper of the Hammer. Take care of yourself, and of Whomper," he said, kissing his daughter on the forehead. "Never forget that I love you with all my heart," he leaned down, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I have faith you have a great future ahead of you. Now, take care of the hammer and don't look back." He opened the case, putting the hammer into Poppy's hands. "Goodbye, my little flower." He hugged the crying child, a single drop falling from his own eye.

With one last goodbye, Poppy jumped out of the wagon, running as fast as her legs could carry her. As large as the hammer was, it felt light in the child's hands. Not even the size of the weapon counteracted her balance, it felt right in the yordle's grip. Poppy glanced to her side, dread filling over her as a bandit rushed toward her running figure, reaching out for the hammer. "Don't think you're getting away, little girl," he growled. Before the man got to her though, Poppy's father jumped into the air, smashing his hammer into the man's face, then repeatedly attacked him before the body went still. Poppy fled into the woods. However, some part of her made her turn around and hide in the bushes, watching the attack.

Fires burned across the wagons, infecting men with its heat and setting ablaze the manes of whining horses. Bandits and soldiers alike died, blood seeping into the soil. Poppy watched as her father valiantly fought off the bandits with a few other soldiers. The girl spotted one that appeared to be the leader. One arm was covered in sharp, rocky gems that were the color of amber, not leaving a single piece of human flesh visible to the naked eye. The leader was towering, but once he removed his hood, appeared to not resemble a human at all. A black semi disc lined the middle of his bald head. His black skin was lined with gray tattoos, taking on tribal shapes and symbols. His yellow eyes narrowed on the blacksmith, currently fending off two bandits with some other soldiers.

The leader's hand transformed, the orange crystal on his arm stretching further across the creature's arm, until it turned into a wickedly shaped blade. He charged toward the soldiers and Poppy's father, swiping the crystallized arm across, sending the now bleeding soldiers flying into the woods behind the wagons. Poppy watched with dreaded anxiousness. All the bandits stepped back from the blacksmith, their leader eyeing the small smith who had a courageous fire burning in his eyes. The yordle swung, missing his target the first time but landing the other hit. However, that hit was a block from the leader's normal, thick arm. The leader's mouth twisted into an evil grin, showing off his fanged white teeth. Faster than the smith could react, the orange blade impaled him, lifted high into the air as he spat out blood.

Poppy covered her mouth, almost unable to keep the screams for her papa quiet. Her eyes watered, staring at the amused figure of the leader. The creature swung roughly to the ground, slipping the blacksmith off the blade, gasping for breath as red poured out from his gaping wound. Then with one sharp motion, the leader plunged the blade into the smith's head. His hand fell to the ground outstretched, cold enveloping Poppy's heart. Her feet rushed in the opposite direction, rubbing her eyes with one arm while carrying the oversized hammer across a shoulder. Her feet carried her to the winds. Once her feet tired, Poppy wandered the forests for so long sense of time escaped her, until she came across another highway, spotting another caravan.

This time, the caravan was more of an escorting party, filled with horsebound, intimidating soldiers who surrounded a man in golden armor, riding atop a white horse. Some of the soldiers looked curiously at the girl. The golden armored man noticed the girl, pulling over to the road despite his subordinates' warnings. He dismounted his beautiful horse, leaning down to the crying child with a warm smile. "What's wrong child?" The girl was unable to answer, sniffling loudly. "Can you at least tell me your name?" The yordle nodded.

"P-Poppy," the girl stammered.

* * *

"Whoa. I thought I had it bad," Rumble sighed. Poppy took a swig from a rum bottle Riven carried with her.

"That's how it all started. I met the king that day, and I guess he was feeling sympathetic. So, he took me along with him and provided me my own home in the Demacian capital." Poppy laughed. "I never expected him to take such favor with a yordle such as myself. He told me to come train with the other humans my age in the barracks. Few years passed by, and I became one of the finest warriors in the nation. Over those four years, I had grown a great love for Demacia. Day in and day out, I practiced and sparred with my fellow trainees."

"So wait, the only schooling you ever had was in the barracks? No academic or logistic classes?" Rumble cut in. Poppy responded with a confused look.

"What's an acadi-um, and log-er-ic?" she sputtered out. Rumble groaned, slapping his forehead.

"And you're eighteen for gods' sake," the mechanic breathed in frustration. "So how did you become the ambassador to Bandle City?"

Poppy pondered this question for a minute. "I guess over the years the king favored and trusted me more, so he gave me that title. Though, it's more of a faux position since I haven't done any ambassador duties at all yet. The only job I've been doing since I finished my training was to search for the rightful owner of this hammer." Poppy spun the hammer under her grip. "Most of the time spent when I wasn't fighting on the Rift was searching across Demacia for someone worthy of the hammer." Rumble gazed at her curiously.

"But, aren't you the one worthy to wield that weapon?" he asked skeptically. Poppy laughed heartily.

"Of course not," she chuckled. "This hammer was made for a human, and given its design, it's for someone who resides in Demacia."

Rumble's skeptic nature did not waver. "But you lived in Demacia. Plus, you're a terror with that thing in your hands. I've seen footage of you on the Rift, and that hammer seems like it belongs to you." Poppy shook off the notion.

"Nah, there's no way I'm the owner. The hammer does most of the work, I just swing it. There's no way a yordle like me could wield such a great weapon like its mine." Rumble scoffed.

"You make it sound like yordles are inferior to humans," he said quietly, bitterness in his words. This surprised Poppy.

"Huh? I mean we may be smaller than them but I never said we were weaker than humans. It's just considering the size of this thing and its design, it's made for a Demacian human."

Rumble scoffed again. "But you wield that thing like a human. I mean do you even see yourself when you use that hammer? That thing is twice your size and probably weighs as much as a golem, and you fling it around like it's as light as a feather. You can't convince me otherwise, especially since your strength that comes from a yordle of all races is legendary." Poppy shrugged, taking another drink of rum.

"I'm not about to consider those years of walking across the plains and mountains of Demacia were pointless because I was the worthy hero all along…" Poppy was cut off, the yordles jumping back from their sitting positions as the thick tree Poppy laid against was now diagonally sliced in half.

"Riven! Garen! We got company!" Poppy yelled. Immediately the human champions awoke and entered battle stances. Rumble rushed for Tristy, quickly firing up his mech. A figure showed itself from the darkness. Flickering shadows danced along his long snout from the nearby fire. The gaping maw he sported carried incredibly sharp rows of teeth. Dark green scales were barely visible in the darkness. The figure contained a weapon similar to a crescent blade in his hand. Garen gritted his teeth.

"Renekton," he growled. The humanoid crocodile glanced at Garen with thinning yellow pupils.

"Get out of my way," the Ascended spoke simply but powerfully. Riven lifted her blade.

"You're going back where you belong," she stated boldly. The Shuriman roared, cackling into the night skies.

"You can try, but it will be over your dead bodies."

 **I have something special in store for Renekton. This was an enticing chapter for me to write and cannot wait to start the next one. I gotta say, I like the popularity so far for this story even though most people are attracted to all the lesbian fan fics and lemons. Anyway, thanks for reading my unknown works. Until next chapter, guys.**


	8. Chapter 8: Setting Sails

**Hey guys, DL here.**

 **I have too much stuff to keep me away from this story. League of Legends is the biggest culprit, but mostly the reason it took so long to make this was that I hit writer's block on continuing the story. This effect will probably worsen in the coming chapters, but I'll try to fight it. Please drop a review, so I can improve my writing. Enjoy reading!**

Poppy faced her hammer towards Renekton, tensing for a fight. The Shuriman had jolted the resting party, almost slicing off Poppy's head in the process from precision woodcutting. All five bodies tightened, patiently waiting for the first to engage. Renekton grit his teeth, saliva dripping out of the corners of his mouth. "Embrace the jaws of death, if you dare," he said, licking his jaws with anticipated delight. Among the champions in the League, Poppy recalled that the Ascended war hero outclassed almost everyone here by a fair margin, and was one of the most powerful and vicious creatures in the entire League. The only one with better odds than the rest was Garen, but currently dragging his injuries, was not at his best.

A whirring could be heard from Rumble's mech, the roaring of pistons heard throughout the night as a sudden barrage of harpoons fired out towards the enemy. The attack seemed menacing enough, until Renekton within only a few seconds jumped and spun through the air, his weapon following his motions and forming a spiral. All the harpoons in the immediate direction of the warrior were sliced clean through or deflected. Rapidly approaching the dirt, Renekton in a fluid motion hit the ground running, catching Poppy and Rumble off guard while Riven and Garen raced to the right side toward their allies' position.

Rumble swung his mace, Renekton avoiding it and slashing the mech's torso, causing the robot to malfunction and collapse. At the same moment, Poppy charged toward the Shuriman. Carelessly, Renekton stepped back, grabbing onto the passing Demacian and using her forward momentum, tilted his grip, smashing her into the ground. Wind escaped Poppy's lungs aggressively, sending sharp pains across her already burned chest. Riven advanced, quick enough to reach Renekton's back. However, when her blade swung, it quickly met metal as a now pivoted Renekton juggled the crescent-shaped weapon in his hand, parrying every strike the Exile threw at him. He fired his arm to the side, his weapon knocking Riven's in the same direction, landing a punch into the woman's center. A gasp escaped her lips, the Shuriman reaching over and grabbing her shirt, flipping her off her feet and throwing her onto her back behind him.

Poppy and Garen bull rushed the enemy simultaneously. A grin stretched across Renekton's snout. Poppy to his left and Garen to his right, Renekton lashed out at Garen, swiftly moving to Garen's blind side and striking a nasty diagonal slash down Garen's chest. Filled with confidence, the Shuriman thought little of the fast approaching yordle. He reached out to where she was with a huge clawed hand, but was surprised at how she was not currently in his grasp. Just before Renekton's attempted snatch, Poppy ducked, moving low toward the Ascended's knees. Renekton growled in frustration when the Demacian refused to fall on his back, barely keeping hold of the crocodile's wildly thrashing arm while his wound gushed ominously. With one sharp movement, Poppy fired her hammer into Renekton's kneecap.

The Shuriman howled, buckling backward, and slicing at the air blindly. Poppy panted heavily. Garen was now above Renekton, steel met steel as their weapons clashed for dominance. Riven was now back on her feet, approaching the monster with a murderous look in her eye. The two humans roared with rage, madly attacking the enemy with fast, brutalizing strikes. It was not enough however. Renekton roughly pushed his weapon's direction upward, lifting Garen's broadsword from finger's length to the air, then cut the Demacian at the knees, turning then to address the pesky Riven.

The Exile and the Iron Ambassador were side-by-side, launching flurries of blows at Renekton. The Shuriman growled as he parried each attack, annoying Poppy and Riven, driving them to strike faster. "I have no time for you," Renekton grunted, knocking away Riven. The Exile landed roughly against a tree, slumping to the ground into unconsciousness. Garen and Poppy were ready to strike again, until swift, yet wobbly movements were made, Renekton appearing behind the Demacian diagonally slashing Garen's unprotected back. Poppy noticed the Shuriman's knee still shivered from her last attack. His eyes focused on the yordle next.

"You'll be a fine appetizer before I kill Nasus," Renekton said, flipping the blade in his hand.

Poppy gave him a weird look. "Renekton…Nasus is dead," she stated, painfully remembering the death of the Curator. The Shuriman didn't like that response. The battle continued, steel against iron as Poppy had a hard time avoiding Renekton's relentless attacks. The wind washed through the forest, blowing through the swaying, tall trees. The breeze was cool against the yordle's sweating skin. She felt overpowered, her brute allies were unconscious while Rumble's robot was in no condition to fight. It was up to her whether her friends would breath for a bit longer or get butchered. That was a daunting task in and of itself.

Suddenly, Renekton made an opening in an attack. Poppy got under the striking arm, thrusting the hammer shaft into the crocodile's gut, then in a pendulum motion dropped the hammer's face on Renekton's skull. His howls scared the sleeping birds in the night, fluttering flocks flying in fright. Poppy knew she couldn't beat her opponent now, but she can get him away from the wounded champions behind her. As Renekton wobbled, stunned from Poppy's last attack, the yordle raised her hammer and started spinning in a circular motion. The spinning's speed gradually increased, until Poppy pounded against the forest floor surface. The blow ruptured the terrain, cracking it gradually before a large golden hammer rose from the ground and smacked Renekton, sending him flying into the air and disappearing into the night.

Poppy collapsed, gasping for needed air. Rumble approached her from his spectating point. "Is it over?" he asked uneasily. Poppy nodded.

"For now."

* * *

"Damn gator. I had enough injuries to deal with," Garen grunted, wincing as Riven pulled the fresh bandages over a tender wound. Riven scoffed.

"Well that's what you get for fighting without thinking," Riven chided, biting off an end of the cloth and securing the bandage around the man's torso.

"That's Garen for ya. Lives for battle with an empty brain," Rumble snickered, laid back on the wooden deck relaxingly. The Demacian eyed the mechanic, rubbing the bandage over his ghostly eye.

"Watch it, runt. Don't forget over that big head of yours, you're just a scrawny, defenseless smartass," Garen growled, yelping as he slapped Riven's hand when she tightened the bandages. In return, the woman scolded him, smacking him upside the head.

"I'm gonna get you back for that," Rumble warned turning his head back to peer at the two humans. "An eye for an eye, wouldn't you say?" He smirked.

"That's it!" Garen attempted getting up, but was sat back down through Riven's deceptive strength. He yelped in pain at her action, receiving another scolding.

"Enough out of you. You've done enough fighting for a while," Riven tsked. The Demacian slouched over grumpily, Riven continuing her work on redressing the myriad of cuts on his body. Rumble jumped to his feet, moving toward Poppy, who was now above on the forecastle deck of the boat. The Iron Ambassador rested against the fore mast, the wooden pole thick enough to lay against comfortably. Rumble sat down close to her, joining her in watching the seagulls fly overhead. The ship rocked occasionally from spirited waves, causing the two yordles to collide at the shoulders.

Days had passed since that night. The party of four bounced back from their combat pain and had reached one of the bustling port towns along Valoran's coast. It took no time at all to acquire a ship perfectly sized for the group. The boat contained a pantry in the lower deck, as well as sleeping quarters, a storage room, and supplies to keep the ship afloat. With its two masts, the boat provided great speed for the group's urgent quest.

Rumble had told the Demacian humans about the plan: to reach Ionia and inquire the Kinkou Order's help against the coming threat. However, the past week's events had left an infectious doubt in their minds. What if Ionia was gone as well? What if there was no help against fighting Orus and the escaped convicts? For someone even of Rumble's intellect, the effects of anxiousness and shrouding uncertainty played wracking mind games with the mechanic.

"You know, I'm glad you showed up that night. At Jonas' forge I mean," Rumble said, sucking in the soothing smell of the sea in deep breaths. "It had been a long time since I saw another of our kind up in the plains."

Poppy nodded faintly. No longer was she in her thick armor, but rather now in baggy leather pants and a grey undershirt that was tight around her chest area. Many times, she would place cold, wet cloth on the skin where Brand burned her. "I can't say it was a nice surprise when I woke up that morning though," the girl laughed. Rumble faked an appalled expression.

"How dare you! I made you breakfast!" Rumble exclaimed, punching her affectionately in the arm. This caused the girl to laugh even more. She wiped her eye, turning back to the puffy clouded sky.

"I know all about your detesting of humans, so then why would you live in one of their villages?" she asked. Rumble scoffed.

"You kidding me? Most of the yordles back in Bandle City are content with being subordinates. They don't even take pride in their work anymore. All they do is supply Demacia with their blood, sweat, and tears, and they jump for joy when they get a pat on the head. The less I see of those pestering brainiacs, the better."

"But aren't you a brainiac?" Poppy mused, giggling.

"Only when I need to be. Not my fault either. Can't help I was born into the house of a founding scientist of the city. Otherwise, I'm just the backtalk smartass who gets off on pissing people off," Rumble laughed. Poppy smiled. Under that rough exterior, Rumble had grown on her. His sarcastic demeanor amused the Keeper of the Hammer, yet she was drawn in by the rare, but powerful feeling of Rumble protecting the meek. It was a valiant trait that even many Demacian patriots did not have.

"I never knew what kind of person you'd actually be. At the Institute, all I remember was the introverted boy who always stared at me when I walked by," she reminisced, grabbing the water skin beside her and draining a portion of its contents. Rumble reactively blushed, scratching the back of his head.

"You knew about that?" he asked sheepishly. Poppy nodded.

"Most of the time when I glanced at you, your eyes were on me," Poppy said. "By the way, why were you always staring at me?"

Rumble blushed even deeper, turning away. Poppy leaned sideways toward him, watching him curiously. "Well?" she pressed. Rumble gulped, scratching his head again bashfully. He tried moving back to her gaze, but his eyes fell on her plump chest that was tightly outlined by her shirt. Poppy followed his eyes, turning red as a soft squeak escaped her throat. Dagger-sharp looks faced the teenage boy, making him doubletake in a panic.

"N-no, no no, please! I-I didn't mean that, I swear!" Rumble stammered, waving his hands vainly. A fist plummeted through the air, colliding with the boy's skull. His head was roughly jerked forward, whimpering at the strong pain caused by Poppy's terrifying strength. Poppy pouted.

"I thought you were better than that…" she sighed over Rumble's whimpering.

"I mean, your body is attractive…" Rumble stated quietly, frightened at the returned fire in Poppy's eyes and her warning fist. "What I mean to say is, I guess I looked at you because you intrigued me," Rumble said sheepishly, shifting awkwardly. "When I was in school, none of the girls ever wanted to talk to me because I was the smallest. So, I never really had the chance to get close to one. Then, when I was in the League and you joined, I had heard some of the stories of your past. It piqued my curiosity, I guess. I don't know…"

"Wait, were you trying to…" the words caught in her throat, squeaking quietly again, and turning back to the skies. They sat in awkward silence, the ship swaying with the ocean's restless currents. It was a time before Poppy answered again. "Are you crushing on me?" Rumble didn't answer, scratching a cheek with his finger. "Rumble?" she pressed, making him more uncomfortable. He tensed up, shivering.

"Yes!" He burst out, moving his face a breath away from Poppy's. The two immediately saw each other's crimson faces and turned away from each other, brimming with self-consciousness.

"Wow…" she whispered in astonishment. The yordles' met each other's eye shyly. "Why me? There are plenty of other yordle girls you could go after." Rumble shook his head.

"Well, the only other ones in the League are Lulu and Tristana. Lulu's too eccentric and Tristana, well you know her better than I do. Too wild." Poppy snorted out a laugh. That was something Poppy could agree on. "That a bad thing…?" Rumble spoke softly. This caught Poppy off guard.

"Well…no. It's just," Poppy pondered for words. "It's just you surprised me. I never expected that's why you kept staring." Rumble's face turned into an odd expression.

"Seriously? Shouldn't that be obvious?" He asked. Poppy shook her head awkwardly. Rumble sighed. "You really aren't that bright…" Rumble rubbed the top of the Iron Ambassador's head affectionately, turning her back to a familiar red but this time a smile formed. The sea's saltwater breeze felt pleasant on the yordles' faces.

"Well if we're being honest, you've kind of grown on me," Poppy beamed.

"Since when?"

Poppy thought about this for a moment. "I guess it's because you're naturally a good guy. You were brave enough to save a village full of humans from one of the scariest monsters in Runeterra's history. Well, that and you came to help me when I got burned." Poppy dripped some water from the skin on the cloth, reapplying it on her healing burn. "That night as well, before Renekton ruined it, you shared with me something you probably haven't told many people."

Rumble rubbed his head. "Well I assume it was the same for you too." Poppy passively agreed with him.

"For years, I've wandered the mountains and valleys of Demacia," Poppy continued, resting fully against the mast pole. "There have been so many that could've been the Hero that I've seen. But it always ended in some way, just something off about them that told me they weren't the Hero of Demacia after all. So, I moved on. I traveled through the calm and the storm, stopping only at Warp Gates when I was called for a League match.

"But that endless journeying, it's lonely," Poppy sighed sadly.

"That solitude is necessary, but still it's hard to live with being on your own. You have no idea how much of a burden it is, how lonely it is. I even gave up becoming one of the King's Royal Guard to continue this quest. But the loneliness gets to me sometimes."

Rumble peered at her in amazement. The Poppy he had always heard about was a loose cannon, a cheerful, happy-go-lucky warrior without a care of any opponent that stood in her way. Underneath it all however, were conflicting emotions and dwelling trauma. It was almost painful to hear. "You know, you don't have to be alone," Rumble said.

"How?" she pivoted her gaze into Rumble's yellow, cat-like eyes.

"I mean, I can keep you company," Rumble said skittishly. "If you want, I'll help you search for the Hero. That way, it won't be so lonely." An unknown feeling crept into Poppy's chest. The alien confused her, but it was warm and welcoming. A feeling of gratefulness, joy, relief, and affection. She couldn't put her finger on the word. A tear fell from Poppy's eye.

"Thank you, Rumble…" she whispered, laying her head against his shoulder. Rumble blushed again. _Damn, why am I so shy around her?_ Rumble thought, annoyed at his own instinctive reactions. He looked to the sky, shocked at how the blue day had descended into fading dusk. He pivoted, spotting Riven on the wheel as she and Garen spoke of old memories. Though they bickered often, the yordle mechanic observed they truly treasured each other's company. A hope set inside the boy's heart. Maybe one day, Rumble and Poppy would be the same.

Rumble yawned. Sleep set in his muscles. He turned to Poppy, who was already well into dreamland. His eyes fluttered, taking last looks at the beautiful sight before him, the setting sun gleaming brightly against the now relaxed waters of the ocean. Rumble's eyes closed, smiling as he drifted into a dream, his head unconsciously falling softly on top of Poppy's, who rested peacefully on his shoulder. The tired orange light gently caressed the sleepy forms of the yordles. Thoughts wandered in the boy's head before he left reality. Maybe what happened on that day was the start of something. Maybe, the bashful friendship of the two could metamorphize into something much more.

* * *

"Wake up you two."

Poppy felt a light slapping on her cheek, slowly lifting her eyelids. Her vision was fuzzy, taking a few seconds to focus on the crouched form of Riven. Rumble stirred as well, rubbing his waking face. Poppy took in a deep breath of the saltwater air. The sun had barely risen, shining orange, purple, and many different colors on the horizon. "What is it? Is breakfast ready?" Rumble asked, yawning loudly. Riven smiled.

"We're here."

Poppy peered out in front of the boat, spotting land. The forms of smooth, climbing mountains were visible, slightly veiled by the low-hanging clouds. Along these land masses, forests littered across their bodies, adding a vibrant dark green to the mountains' color. Poppy and Rumble grinned with anticipation. Riven smiled. "Bet you've never seen anything off the continent's mainland, huh?" Riven mused, adjusting the shoulder strap for her sword. Hopefully, with help, Poppy could finally avenge Nasus and the League of Legends.

As the ship bounced across the waves, Poppy and Rumble glanced at each other, grinning widely. The four champions had reached Ionia.

 **The PoppyxRumble has set sail (pun intended XD)! Since I haven't been posting as often, I've been trying to compensate by creating longer chapters, even if those extensions are minuscule at best. Anyway, please drop a review. Thanks for reading my unknown works, and until next chapter!**


	9. Chapter 9: Foreign Lands

**Hey guys, DL here.**

 **(takes deep breath) I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry** **I'm so sorry**

 **(gasps)** **I'm so sorry I haven't posted in so long. I have been diagnosed with a common disease called 'Teenage Procrastination'. I know you guys have been waiting so long for another chapter and I had writer's block for the longest time. I'm still trying to figure how to make Rumble not feel so useless and still working on it. But I've got the story planned out for the next few chapters, so the weeks long wait for new chapters is over! (not guarenteed). By the way, you guys are getting better and better at dropping reviews and they've helped me to try to change my story since I've been sitting on this one the past few days. Well anyway, enjoy reading!**

The island of Ionia was even more beautiful behind the mountains that walled its borders. The party of the four champions trekked through a narrow path to find winding rivers that careened off cliffs, arched gateways decorated with red iron poles, orange-colored stone outlines, and terracotta roofing watching over these breathtaking passes. Cherry trees were scattered across the rocky faces. Steep, marble staircases lined the mountaintops, sidelining the gateway architecture as well as complimenting it. Some houses were also positioned along the sloped terrain, matching a style similar to the gateways in its orange colors that outlined the buildings' sides and its rectangular, slightly sloped terracotta roofs. Nearby, Poppy saw a massive waterfall that started hundreds of feet in the air, then collided with the next cliff several feet below, slipping off into series of rocky edges, splitting into several different waterfalls that roared at the base of the mountains. It formed something extraordinary for an eye to see. Something the four champions would never have found back in the rugged lands of Demacia.

"Wow…" Poppy breathed in astonishment. Rumble whistled, impressed.

"Feels like you can forget all your worldly problems here," Rumble said, pulling out a self-made gadget to capture the landscape's stunning image. His robot whirred softly as he used his contraption inside the mech's cockpit, satisfied with the captured image once the image was processed. Riven scoffed to herself.

"If only that were true…" she said quietly. Garen eyed her for a moment, before moving toward the yordles' position at the head of the group. The first step in what was assumed thousands, maybe tens of thousands on one of the mountain's staircases met the group with a deceptive embrace.

"Ah, hell!" Rumble complained. "How the hell am I going to get Tracy up there?" His eyes filled with dread as the winding path climbed further and further into the heavens. Garen snorted.

"I can't believe you're still using a name for your robot. It's just a weapon," he said. Rumble peered back at him with an angered look.

"She's my masterpiece! Of course she'll have the privilege of a name!" he replied bitterly.

Garen laughed. "You could always trek this mighty beast on your own two legs," he suggested with a sly smile. Rumble shook his head.

"Only a knuckle-headed jackass like you would enjoy a trip like that," Rumble said. However, when he saw the girls' disappointed looks, his hopes dropped even further. "C'mon, do you even see that thing?! You guys are strong, hell Poppy is arguably the strongest one here." Garen flared an evil glance at the mechanic, making Rumble swallow his words. "I'm just the small yordle who finds it difficult to climb the steps with all my limbs, let alone just my legs."

Riven sighed. "Which makes it all the more reason it's annoying to hear you complain. You are sitting inside a vehicle, so you won't even be walking on your own stubby legs. Yet you're complaining how a staircase like this, even though you won't be using your legs, will do you the most harm out of all of us." Riven peered up at the indeed harsh climb, at one point required to zigzag through mountain passes to get over the obstacle. Even someone of Garen's prowess might falter to the journey, yet the Demacian quaked with excitement at the chance of acquiring another accolade for conquering his body.

"But do you realize how badly it'll ruin the suit? This thing runs on fuel, and I don't know if this baby can make the whole trip. This is gonna suck," Rumble whined. Poppy turned her head quizzically.

"Why don't you just leave Tracy behind?" She asked. Rumble gawked at her like she just told him to bomb Bandle City.

"Are you insane? I'd be defenseless! I…" Rumble stopped, noticing his fellow champions were tired of his incessant chatter and began their climb up the steep staircase. Rumble tried to speak further, but he knew it was futile, trying to follow close behind them. At first, the intimidating set of staircases were not so hard, heading from checkpoint to checkpoint as they ascended. Each 'neighborhood' of houses at each point comforted the sweating figures of the champions. But as the step number rounded to the thousands, the journey skyrocketed into pain and fatigue. Even as the strongest and most fit of the group, Garen's body trembled in agony. Rumble, who stayed at the back of the group, endured hardships of his own as Tracy squealed in pain. His careful footing on each narrow step left him mentally exhausted.

"Screw this, next time the staircase stops, we stop," Rumble groaned, deep in concentration as sweat poured steadily down his temple. Some were unable, but essentially all nodded in agreement. However, when they peered to the skies, their odds of surviving were doubtful. An eternity later, the four collapsed on the sudden flat base of the next checkpoint, broken and beaten. Tracy fell forward, forcing Rumble into a tumbling roll before collapsing on his back, breathing heavily. The sunlight beamed across his fading vision, a silhouette of a person standing over the yordle before he fell into unconsciousness.

The next time his eyes opened, Rumble sat up, examining his surroundings. His fellow champions laid on thin, silky mats, each with a damp cloth on their heads. Wobbly, Rumble stood up, catching the soft patterns of the carpet-like mats below him. Inside the room, a small table was stationed in a corner. The walls and what Rumble assumed were sliding doors were thin layers of wood, simple yet from an architectural standpoint was pleasant and tranquil. The yordle boy especially fancied the intricate and delicate patterns on the doors. Red, lit paper lanterns hung from the ceiling with a foreign language painted on each. From the dark shading of one side of the walls, Rumble assumed it was night.

"How long were we out?" he asked quietly to himself. A noise perked Rumble's ears, turning around to see the sliding doors opening to reveal a middle-aged woman with high, pale cheekbones and slim eyes. Rumble's current conscious status frightened the woman, almost dropping the neatly folded towels in her hands in response. "Um…excuse me? Can…you…tell…me…where…we…are?" the yordle asked slowly, enunciating each word. The woman rolled her eyes.

"Foreigners," she scoffed in perfect Valonese. "Learn this lesson well: saying the words slowly just makes you sound like more of an idiot than you already look." Rumble turned red, gulping. He quickly apologized and inquired of his current situation. She smiled.

"The villagers found you on the staircase. You appeared half-dead," she laughed. A rustling was heard to their sides, noticing Riven and Poppy stir from their slumber. Poppy blinked, eyes drooped in sleep.

"Mff-at's going on…" she mumbled incoherently. Riven groaned, cracking her neck a little too loudly and looking up at everyone else. Garen still lay asleep.

"What happened…" she groaned again, turning toward their hostess. She noticed the sleeping form of the brute man, and to everyone else's shock, struck her hand against his cheek with an echoing slap. The giant of a man grumbled, lifting into a seated position before his eyes focused.

"Well…I guess everyone's awake then…" the woman said uneasily. From then on, the group was informed of being found on the edge of the staircase, being retrieved from the stone steps, and laid to rest in the current woman's house, who volunteered to look after the drained group. According to her, all of them had rested an entire day, and had been kept after with cold cloth and drink.

"Don't even get me started on how the giant started to smell," she lifted her nose in disgust. Garen slumped in self-consciousness. Riven and Rumble on the other hand, rolled across the wood floor panels with spasming stomachs. Poppy remained quiet in thought.

"How long do you think it'll take for us to get to the Kinkou Order?" she asked. The woman raised an eyebrow.

"You're looking for the Kinkou Order, are you now?" she replied. "Their main temple is just beyond this mountain."

"How long will it take? That staircase is brutal."

The woman chuckled. "Indeed. Its brutality is so legendary our ancestors dubbed it 'The 9 Gates of Demise'." Rumble shot an I-told-you-so look at the group members. "But we haven't used that means of travel for half a century. Ever since the technical wonders brought by the advancements of Valoran culture, we've since traveled the mountainside via elevator." She headed over to one wall, opening it to find a breathtaking view of the sloping mountainside, catching glimpses of the still raging waterfalls that now gleamed the dim moonlight off its surface. Sure enough, a metal track with a train car only visible from this height slowly moved up and down each checkpoint. The track extended from the base of the mountain to the middle of the tallest mountain side, then disappeared behind the trees.

"There was an elevator all along?!" Rumble burst out. The woman smirked.

"It's visible from the coast. I'm amazed you used the staircase at all."

Rumble's face contorted in frustration. "MOTHER F-" He was cut off from a signature Poppy right hook. He whimpered feebly on the ground as Riven inquired more from the hostess. To the champions' relief, the elevator was a fast form of travel, and would take a mere hour to reach the Kinkou Order's headquarters. Further info was found in that the Order was the religious and national commanding organization, and had kept peace in the Ionian lands for millennia.

"Are you sure the Order will give you the time of day? I doubt they'll make room in their schedule for some Demacian travelers," the woman asked, handing each a glass of water.

"Let's just say we have urgent business that the Order can't ignore," Riven said, downing the glass in one swig. The woman shrugged, complying with their cryptic nature. After half an hour of preparing their belongings, as well as a minor meltdown from Rumble trying to find his mech, the group was led down the stone street of the village. Each house was like the one they visited: fences marking house boundaries while the terracotta-roofed houses had thin boardwalks lining the exterior of each home. It was amazing how well they tended to their gardens and homes, Poppy thought.

When they reached the end of the street, a small checkpoint station was planted, with an elevator car already positioned there. The elevator car was fairly sized for the group, large enough to where Rumble could walk in with his robot and still have room to spare. As it turned out, there were multiple tracks that laid parallel to each other, to which Poppy figured was for reducing elevator congestion. A mechanism seemed to mesh a track with another one, allowing for elevator cars two to four tracks away to reach the checkpoint station for boarding. The group gave their thanks to the waving villagers, then boarded the elevator. Everyone sat down, except Rumble, who laid back into his robot. Each one later thanked themselves, as the elevator rose to a deceptive speed and shot like a cannon up the sloped mountainside. It was lucky Rumble turned on the robot's suction cup feet, or else it would've toppled on the two girls. After yet another heated fight between Rumble and one of the champions, Poppy sighed in annoyance.

When the champions finally had grown used to the speed of the elevator, they could properly take in the sights. Waterfalls mightily roaring off mountain cliffs, forming large lakes that were ambushed by tall trees. Villages like the one Poppy and the rest visited rested on the slope and across the valleys. "Hey, does anyone want to hear jokes?" Poppy piped up, vibrant with excitement. Garen's face twisted into a cringe.

"For the love of gods, no!" he breathed in horror. Riven rolled her eyes.

"Give the girl a chance, man." She looked to Poppy anticipatedly. The yordle girl's eyes beamed. Garen braced for the worst.

"All right! So, there was…um…oh yeah! A Noxian, a Targonian, and a Pilty are robbing a bank. The bank guy says, 'I'll give you whatever you want!' The Noxian says, 'Give me all your gold you got back there!' The Targonian says, 'Give me the most fabulous gemstones!' And the Pilty asks, 'Can I own this ba…I mean, own this bank! You know, since he's a Pilty? You get it…right?" Everyone blinked blankly.

"I warned you," Garen said simply. Rumble didn't say anything, but agreed with him. Riven seemed to be the only one feeling sympathetic.

"You'll get better, Poppy. Just wait a while and listen to other people's jokes. Maybe you can make a good one by listening to them," Riven said, rubbing Poppy's head affectionately. The yordle faintly smiled before turning back to the scenery, leaving the rest of the trip a quiet ride.

An hour later, the elevator screeched to a halt. When the group exited, they stepped foot on polished granite. The city wasn't as shining as one found in Demacia, but had its own appeals. Many of the architecture that the champions saw in the gateways that guarded over waterfalls and houses in the scattered villages to also be in the city. Currently, they appeared to be in a bustling market district. Behind the markets, a tall silver palace with roofs like other buildings topping itself: one for the largest height with two lower roofs built parallel to it. It wasn't noticeable at first, but Poppy saw blue crystal fragments floating above certain decorated buildings that separated themselves from the pack.

Suddenly, the aromas of foreign cuisine drifted into Poppy's nose, ridding her of all rational thought and replacing it with pure ecstasy. "Oh, that smells soooo good!" Poppy drooled, running off before anyone could stop her. Garen and Riven groaned, the three champions following closely behind Poppy. Then the contagious smell of food entered the others' sinuses, and could immediately understand Poppy's behavior. From Rumble's point of view, the market had many similarities to the bazaar back in the Demacian village he resided in. Chicken dripping with what Rumble assumed to be Ionia's teriyaki sauce steamed across many a grill. Other small shops had fruits and vegetables in crates for shoppers to pick out, dates, apples, and oranges among the popular fruits while some favored potatoes, celery, and lettuce.

"If we could just have some," Poppy whined longingly, looking to Rumble pleadingly. His heart strings were pulled, but his pocket sure wasn't.

"Yeah, that'd be wicked. But we got more important things to attend to." People turned heads as they saw a tall, white-haired woman in a cloak dragging off a loudly protesting yordle girl. Then, Rumble spotted something in the corner of his eye. Insisting on the champions following him, Rumble checked out a large crowd that stood before a man in a long white robe.

"Peace among yourselves gives you freedom where strife and turmoil will bring along heavy fees. So be free! Just as our ancestors before us, you too can reach enlightenment!" the man preached, receiving loud cries of cheer and joy. Poppy raised an eyebrow.

"What is this?" she turned to Riven. The tall woman shrugged.

"I think it's one of their religious gatherings."

Poppy remained confused. She never really understood religion and didn't even properly understand its definition. The man grew in confidence, raising his voice higher and higher to the quickly growing crowd. "So be free of this world! Be free…" The robed man was cut off as the people in the market and crowd screamed in horror, trampling over each other as they tried to flee, but the crowd was so large that the escape was slow. Frowns crossed the champions' faces as they brought out their weapons. The white robes of the man were stained red, rapidly tainting the rest of the pure cloth. The man coughed blood as a voice spoke next to his ear.

"You should've told me where the Curator is," the cold, gruff voice growled. The man was lifted into the air and thrown with such strength that he landed on a rooftop on the other side of the district. Screams and wails filled the streets as large crowds were blasted backward into buildings and crumpled underfoot like shifting sand. The attacker licked his lips, cleaving any in his way with his large weapon. The four champions tensed. Renekton's reptilian eyes locked onto them.

"How did he get here so fast?!" Rumble asked to the air, powering up his robot for combat. Meanwhile, anger stretched Renekton's temples. "I was merciful last time," he snarled. "This time, I'll sever your limbs and devour them while you watch, before I remove your bleeding heads!"

Poppy spotted several white robed people fighting through the raging crowds, reaching the empty space beyond the roaring waters of flesh. Only them and the champions stood their ground as terrified citizens ran in the opposite direction. "What is this? Who dares disturb the peace…" one of them stopped as his eyes met the bloodthirsty eyes of Renekton. What Poppy assumed to be the Kinkou Order did not run, but years of battle taught Poppy's eyes to see the minute details, such as the slight shaking of their legs that would otherwise go unnoticed.

"Get out of here! He's too dangerous for you to fight!" Poppy demanded, grasping her hammer firmly. Renekton flipped his weapon in a taunting motion.

"The more the merrier," he cackled. "Last time you were lucky. Cause now I'm angry."

Poppy grit her teeth. Renekton was the toughest opponent she ever faced. Now, she must protect the Ionian officials for being reckless. Whatever happens in the fight, she knew she'd feel it in the morning.

 **I'll try to not forget about this story. My weekends have been filled with Christmas parties, so a lot's been on my mind. Plus, I've hit writer's block on quite a few plot lines so I need to find out how to escape my formulaic obvious plot progression and become unpredictable without throwing off pacing. So as always, thanks for reading my unknown works, drop a review cause they really help me out as a writer, and just stay patient if you want to know more of this story. Until next chapter.**


	10. Chapter 10: Astral Disaster

**Hey guys, DL here.**

 **The plotline hit me while I was writing this chapter. And I hope you're as excited as I am! Cause it's about to get real. Enjoy reading!**

Jaws agape, Renekton licked his jagged teeth, walking toward the battle-ready group, and cutting down any bystanders that crossed his path. "I believe you're still ailed by the wounds I gave you," he observed, continuing towards the champions, and pointing his cleaver at them. In one quick swipe, Renekton cut down a frantic woman that intruded his path, his cold, nonchalant, and careless eyes unnerving the good-hearted Poppy. "I'll take my time with you, and I'm going to savor your deaths." Renekton showed himself to be a master of intimidation, as seen from the appalled reactions of the Kinkou Order behind the four champions. "After I'm done with you, I'll finally rid the world of my brother."

Poppy's heart pained. "Stop this! Renekton, Nasus is gone!" she called out. The crocodile's eyes narrowed. His lips curled back into a snarl.

"Your pointless fibs ceased to be amusing a long time ago." With that, the second confrontation between former Leaguers began, as four protected the meek from a literal war god. Riven and Garen attempted to constrain the beast, but Renekton twisted his body, using his momentum to throw the Demacians to the ground before they had a good grip. Rumble and Poppy rushed him at the front. The mech's flamethrower roared, blinding Renekton momentarily as Poppy came at him from the bottom. The girl swung her hammer, surprised when the Ascended grabbed its shaft just in time, pushing it outward and kicking her in the chest. The Keeper of the Hammer flew backward and crashed through the walls of a building. All while he held up his cleaver-held hand to block the raging fire spurring from Rumble's machine. The fight hadn't even been on ten seconds.

Behind the cloak of the flames, a mace appeared and collided with Renekton's jaw. The Shuriman sprawled onto his back, with Rumble closing in. Poppy passed through the crater she made, watching as Riven and Garen shadowed Rumble, making his second attack. The metal mace smashed and splintered the stone road, however missing his mark, his target rolling sideways and landed his right foot into the mech's leg, dropping forward. Rumble rolled out, turning back to see the looming shadow of doom swooping in from the skies. Poppy looked on in horror.

"Rumble!" she cried out helplessly. Rumble's despaired expression faded as Renekton cannonballed forward, knocking into an Ionian style gazebo in the middle of the market. Poppy turned her gaze to Riven, as the broken sword Poppy remembered was now a full-sized curved black blade that had hot green symbols emblazoned on it. The Demacian humans guarded the boy mechanic, lifting their swords in a battle stance.

"Don't die on me yet, pal. We still need to drink together again," Garen smirked. Riven frowned.

"Keep your head in the game, Garen. This fight ain't over yet." The Shuriman slowly lifted himself from the wooden ruins of the gazebo, hobbling slightly. That's when Poppy's keen eyes saw it. Years of training had given her observation skills an incredible boost. The yordle smiled. Those teachings helped her spot a minute detail that might give the champions a slight chance at victory.

"Riven! Garen!" Poppy yelled. "He has a limp in his left leg!" Sure enough, the Demacians saw Renekton's caution of overexerting his wounded leg as he moved toward the group, a wound he received by Poppy from their last encounter. Though he kept his limp very well hidden, it was something that could not be veiled through Demacian trained vision. Riven and Garen split up, flanking Renekton. Blades clashed. Yells and battle cries filled the streets of the capital. Poppy looked around, spotting the Kinkou Order watching across several rooftops with focused eyes. I have no time for them, Poppy thought.

The yordle girl sped to the now demolished market, contorted corpses filling the streets, blood soaking into the bruised market food. Smashed crates and shops dropped over the sidewalk, caused in the commotion when the civilians attempted escape. Her gaze returned to the badly outmatched fight. Garen and Riven were Demacian legends, gaining their fame for different reasons, but respected among all in their nation for their combat prowess, talent, and abilities. However, their experience was short compared to the years of war Renekton commanded through, fighting in a time where battle was much crueler and grotesque than it is now. Even two of Runeterra's best warriors couldn't fight a war god on their own.

Riven breathed heavily, leaning on her sword. Blood drenched her shirt and trickled down her head. Garen was nowhere in Poppy's sight. Renekton chuckled at the white-haired soldier. "I've heard of your skill on a battlefield. I'm quite impressed," Renekton said, sweating pouring off his temples and wiping away the blood that was leaking into his eyes. "In my time, you could've been one of my captains." Riven spat a red wad from her mouth.

"I don't need praise from you," she scowled at him. Renekton grinned.

"I've also heard about your military disgrace and your banishment," he continued, laughing wickedly. "Scorned by your countrymen under suspicion of treason, conspiring with a rival nation, what was it called…Noxus?" Riven tensed, causing Renekton to sneer. "Was that a tender subject? Even someone like me was once a patriot, same as you. Which makes my stomach turn when I look at a two-faced traitor who had so much potential." Riven spun her blade into a two-hand hold, bending her elbow as she charged at the Shuriman with her low blade.

"Lies!" she screamed, thrusting her sword forward. Renekton sidestepped, firing a bowed arm forward and clotheslining Riven. The Exile flipped before colliding with stone. Renekton snickered.

"You well know what you should've been punished for when you committed treason." Renekton lifted his cleaver into the air. Two harpoons went into Renekton's back, the crocodile stumbling momentarily. He growled, turning back and spotting Rumble, who was now back in his robot with a defiant look on his face.

"Come get some!" Rumble urged. "I'll make you into a coat!"

Renekton snarled. "This fight has gone on long enough." Suddenly, a cloud of sand flurried around the Ascended, his body growing into a huge beast. Now, he stood several feet taller than before, and his muscle build stretched, forming him into a terrifying enemy. Rumble gulped, backing his mech up and turning on his shield. Renekton threw a crate at the yordle, cracking as it hit the shield. Rumble squeaked as the Shuriman used the shattered crate as cover to get close, Renekton pounding the shield with his weapon. The shield held, but the force knocked the robot away, smashing into market stalls. The Shuriman pivoted, meeting his steel with Garen's. The Demacian gritted his teeth as he tried to match Renekton's strength. Garen's eye bandage was stained a shaded crimson, and bits of his armor were cracked and broken off. His muscles groaned, knowing he couldn't keep up this standstill for long against his towering opponent.

"You should learn when to stay down," Renekton said, sand flaking against Garen's armor. Poppy sprinted toward the two.

"We won't back down! For our pride, we won't stop! Because we're Demacians!" she yelled. Garen chuckled.

"You said it," the warrior smiled. Renekton growled in frustration, pushing his sword with his overwhelming strength and sent Garen flying away. Renekton hastily pivoted again, slashing at the yordle. She dodged the blade narrowly, only inches from her head as she approached in close quarters. Renekton moved his gaze downward at the yordle as tall as his shins. Poppy thrusted her hammer into Renekton's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Her long hammer proceeded to strike up at the keeled figure of the Shuriman. The hammer's face smacked into Renekton's jaw, then Poppy spun the shaft, whipping the Ascended's head in the direction of the spinning face.

Renekton groaned in pain, stumbling while Poppy lowered her hammer horizontally. She slid her hands along the shaft of the hammer until one hand grasped its shin and the other palm its end. She aimed for the stunned Renekton's chest, then pushing her palm forward, the shaft sliding across her other hand. The hammer collided with the Shuriman. The blow could be heard throughout the district as Renekton catapulted into a marble district hall. A loud bang echoed through the tense air, the shaken building's thick wall stopping Renekton's momentum and in turn made a huge crater that creaked to the edges of the three-story hall.

Poppy gasped, finding air on her knees. "Damn, Poppy. Should've done that first," Rumble joked, wincing as his own pain flared. Garen and Riven limped over to the yordles.

"Years from now I'm still gonna be feeling it," Garen complained.

"I hear ya," Riven agreed. The Kinkou Order appeared from their rooftop perches. Through Poppy's eyes, there seemed to be about a dozen of them. What she assumed was their leader stepped forward, distinguishing himself from his white-robed colleagues with a golden cloth banner hung over his chest. Each of the Order also wore a strange demon mask, each a different color. The leader wore a silver mask, with a silly, fanged grin and thin lines for eyes.

"We are grateful for your heroic efforts," the leader said. "We will be sure to lock this monster under tight security until the League can retrieves him. It's a shame however, that so many lives were lost today." Poppy wearily peered at her surroundings. The entire market was a disaster, and dead bodies were everywhere, from being trampled to death or cut down by Renekton's blade. A pang of regret and guilt occupied Poppy's heart.

"Actually, we came here to talk about the League," Poppy said. "Maybe not out in the open though. The death in this place makes me uneasy." Riven and the rest of Poppy's party nodded in agreement.

"Oh, don't you worry about death. There will be a lot more blood than what then the Butcher just scraped off."

Everyone turned toward the voice, belonging to a man in a long, tattered black cloak. Poppy's eyes wandered to what wasn't hidden: the man's odd fingers with blades fused into them. The man's skin was a rough purple, and his voice was smooth and slippery. "Who are you?" Riven demanded. Poppy froze. An ominous feeling grew in her belly, one that was familiar. A feeling she experienced when her father died. The man grinned.

"It doesn't matter who I am," he said, sliding his fingers against each other, making a noise of clanging metal. "All that matters is that the carnage is only beginning! Releasing Renekton and the others was only the first step. Soon, spoiled blood will soak Runeterra's lands once again! And I'm going to enjoy every minute of it!" the figure cackled. Suddenly, darkness filled the market like a wave, making everyone flinch. It lasted only a moment, and when it faded, the figure was gone.

"That guy doesn't sit well with me," Garen said gravely. Poppy nodded.

"Like he said, it's only the beginning."

* * *

The surreal dimension flowed calmly throughout its expansive space. Each step Ryze took rippled the surface of the Astral Plane. Since the two weeks when the League's foundation crumbled, Ryze searched for clues and culprits with a fiery passion. Who really destroyed the capitals of Noxus and Demacia? What power and numbers could they possess to simultaneously destroy the two strongest city states in Valoran? Why were the prisoners in the Institute let loose without a leash? Who was Orus?

Funneling thoughts tempted Ryze toward insanity. A rune glowed inside one of his myriad pouches. Noticing this, the mage spoke an incantation, a sudden image of an Ionian market apparated. Through the image, Ryze spotted an unconscious Renekton in a prison caravan, locked head to toe in an absurd number of shackles. Ryze breathed in satisfaction. Another convict subdued. He faced back to his investigation area. Replays of city destruction sidelined pictures of the convicts and Orus, each one connected in a faint, transparent blue line. "What was the point of it all?" Ryze asked to no one, diving into his own mind.

Something occurred to him, frightening the mage. Anger boiled as a realization crossed his mind. Ryze pulled out his spell book, speaking a spell as his hand coursed with powerful magic energy. Then, Ryze slapped that palm against the ground. He was now suddenly in a deeper, darker area of the dimension. The normal blues of the Astral Plane were extremely darkened. In front of Ryze was a large runic prison, where the only light emitted in the dark space was contained. The mage approached the cage, hooking his spell book back on his belt. The prisoner sat with his legs crossed, having skin like hardened magma with liquid heat flowing through its cracks. The only fire that coursed outside of his body was the lax flame that danced over his head. "Who broke you out of the Institute, Kanan?" Ryze demanded, frowning. Brand returned it with a scold.

"I told you not to call me that," Brand growled. The fire around his body spiked for an instant, then was suppressed back inside him. Ryze folded his arms.

"You don't understand the situation. You don't have a choice." Ryze lifted a cupped hand, a blue aura forming around it. Brand's eyes widened, his body writhing in pain. The mage's hand dropped, stopping the cage's increased bright color, and leaving Brand gasping for breath. "Who freed you from the Institute? I won't ask again."

"I don't know." Brand's figure contorted again in agony. "I really don't!" he continued once the pain stopped. Each exhale from his mouth was a small breeze of fire. "He stayed hidden in the shadows."

"Just one?"

Brand nodded. "He didn't sound human, nor yordle."

"Anything else?" Ryze pressed.

"I remember something about him. I'm not one to talk, but he gave me a bad feeling. One that told me he could and would commit global genocide without batting an eye."

Ryze's cold eyes persisted on the form of Brand. "You're right. You don't have room to talk." The cage coursed with magic once again, torturing the prisoner inside. When Ryze was content, he dropped the volatile magic field that pained the molten man. "You have the power of the sun, and the element that shaped the very tectonics this world was built on. Yet, all you use it for is to spread your hatred and loss to others. After all these years, you're still just a child."

Brand's fire raged, then suppressed back inside by the prison's properties. "How dare you! It's because of you my parents and brother are gone! It's your fault that you turned me into this! I looked up to you, and you betrayed me!" Brand's hands grasped the bars of the cage, glaring at Ryze with spite.

The mage looked down at him pitifully. "You well know I tried, Kanan!" He burst out. "Everyone lost someone in the Rune Wars! Your parents were dear friends of mine, and I spent many sleepless nights thinking if I could've saved them and your brother. But after that, your hatred and rage didn't fade. You weren't even a teenager back then, so don't assume you know how the world worked! Even now, don't assume how life works!" Brand grit his teeth.

"Thousands of years, Ryze. A lifetime of lifetimes ago, and I still remember every detail of that night. Those…monsters…burned down an entire metropolis, along with my family. You were my idol, everything I aspired to be. I looked up to you again when I turned to you to save my parents. But you killed them. That day I realized you were nothing but a selfish warlock! To keep those special runes of yours to yourself instead of helping someone else!"

"Such arrogance!" Ryze yelled. "You criticize me through the eyes of your childish worldview, while you've been recorded for filling entire _nations_ worth of graveyards?! And through my efforts to keep this world stable, you accuse me of being something as vile as a warlock?! Your hypocrisy sickens me."

Brand banged against the bars of the runic prison. "You kept those runes to yourself! To this day, those runes remain on your person. You crave power, Ryze! That's the entire reason you gave up your humanity!"

"Quiet!"

"My hatred burns strong even today. The most fun I've had has been watching you squirm over the Demacian and Noxian massacres. Watching your fiddling, helpless mind was well worth those people's mediocre ends." The cage flared, sending Brand sprawling on his back and screaming out into the astral skies. Ryze flooded with fury, shocking the cage as Brand wailed in agony.

"Your anger and bitterness has clouded your mind, Kanan! You aren't the only one who suffered! How many children died that day in those cities, along with their families?! How many children your own age lost families back in our time?! Entire generations wiped from the map, and you show no empathy for those like you!" Brand's flames died down slightly, while Ryze continued. "The people who released you from your confines, they want the World Runes. Those people want to bring a second Rune War! And this one will be much worse than the first. It will mean an end to Runeterra!"

"Quite right. I'm impressed you figured that out, Ryze."

Ryze flipped around, spotting a bald man with burgundy-colored skin with wolf pelt pants, covered with tattoos. Suddenly, the Astral Plane screeched, a high-pitched, whining howl that reverberated across the space. The features of the plane changed, flipping from a dark blue to a shaded red. Ryze swiftly opened the book on his belt, pulling out magic inside and blasting it at the intruder. The attack roared in a large ball of energy. Orus laxly swatted it aside, the magic faded into sparks in its redirection. Ryze grinded his teeth.

"I'll make you pay for what you did to Nasus," spat Ryze. Orus chuckled maliciously.

"Now don't put the cart before the horse, my old friend. You still need to learn a few tricks before you can challenge me." Ryze knew well. Orus spell power was off the charts, well above an Ascended's. A being the Rogue Mage never imagined existed. Meanwhile, Brand's gaze switched between the two wizards. Though it wasn't the same, Brand felt Orus' aura was very similar to the man who freed him from his shackles. Ryze's eyes narrowed.

"Friend? I think not. Who are you?" Orus shook his head, tsking.

"Such a shame that your memory has degraded to a senile state. But all in due time, Ryze. All in due time."

Ryze prepared himself for battle. "Why are you here?"

This was something Orus was willing to answer. "Why, I was thinking of destroying that measly bird cage you call a prison. After all, Brand and the others haven't finished their job yet." Orus cut himself off, smile fading as he looked away in thought, almost as if he wasn't listening to someone else. A few moments later, he turned back to the blue mage.

"I would love to catch up on old times, Ryze, but there's been a change of plan. Don't worry though, we'll meet again soon!" Orus laughed maniacally as he used his own Realm Warp, disappearing from the Astral Plane. The physical makeup of the dimension returned to normal. Brand shifted his gaze.

"Sounds like you know him."

Ryze sighed. "He's the reason the League was attacked." Ryze turned back to Brand. "He's one of the people who want to bring about the genesis of a new world war."

 **What'd you guys think? How is Orus as an antagonist? Also, tell me your thoughts on our heroes, and what you think is great and what should be improved upon. Please drop a review as they help me a lot. Anyway, thank you for reading my unknown works, and until next chapter guys.**


	11. Chapter 11: Closed Doors

**Hey guys, DL here**

 **Hope you enjoy this new chapter, cause there is a LOT more content than usual. My own plan for this story has been secured and there will not be as long a waits for new chapters due to writer's block. Anyway, drop a review, cause they help me a lot. Enjoy reading!**

"So, what business do two Demacians and two yordles have to come all the way to our island nation?" The Kinkou Order leader inquired, rapping his fingers against the semi-circle desk, where all the Order stared down at the four champions from their towering position. The capital hall was a large building, and the room the group stood in presently seemed to be some sort of courtroom. Green banners with Ionia's insignia were draped side by side across the top of the courtroom's high walls. To their right, a simple balcony was platformed. Poppy rested on her hammer, looking just as exhausted as her comrades, with barely enough strength to keep their footing upright. Poppy and the group looked to one another until one of them volunteered. Rumble cleared his throat, stepping forward. He was no longer in his robot, now standing at his normal height to gaze up at the Ionian council.

"Valoran is in dire need. The neighboring city states of Demacia and Noxus have been obliterated, and their capitals are in rubble. A threat is coming."

The leader rested his head on closed hands, thinking. "So, the famous warring countries of Valoran are gone…" he repeated quietly. "Could you clarify on what this threat might be?" Rumble shifted awkwardly. One of the Order scoffed.

"They ask for help to fight an enemy they do not even know about," a gruff older man said. "Assistance from an organization as prestigious as the Kinkou Order must be given adequate reason to ally with outsiders, even those who would be champions of the League of Legends. To request the Order's help on a mere whim is not only foolish, it is insulting."

Riven growled in frustration. "Of course information is scarce, that is only because the two most powerful nations in Valoran were simultaneously destroyed! We may not be of Ionian lineage, but it is not foolish to prepare yourselves on a whim. It is foolish to write it off as heresay!"

An older woman in the council clicked the roof of her mouth. "Hold your tongue, child," she commanded. "You should've been taught manners back in Demacia. The Order has watched over Ionia for millennia, and can handle its own affairs. We will not be reprimanded by a shamed exile of all people." Riven clenched her teeth with fury. Poppy was just as pissed.

"But we sure were convenient for you in the market, and left us to fight a legendary monster! And how da-," Poppy was cut off, her gaze changed toward Rumble's lifted hand to stop her. It was then she noticed he wasn't his usual, smack-talk self, but rather now cool-headed and observing

"Forgive us, the recent battle has left us fatigued and tempered," said Rumble.

"High Councilman," a woman in the Order interjected. The leader turned his head toward the masked woman and nodded. The person faced toward the champions. "Even if we were to help you, why come to us when the League is not only closer, but commands much larger power than the Kinkou Order?" Rumble drifted his gaze across each council member.

"Because the city-states weren't the only victims by this enemy's hand. The Institute of War was left in debris and ashes while every summoner in its ranks was exterminated, as well as most registered champions in the regions of Demacia, Noxus, and Institute City," Rumble stated gravely. Some of the Order gasped, while others probably stayed silent in shock.

"Is this true?" the High Councilman asked. Rumble nodded, gesturing toward Poppy, in turn stepping forward.

"I was there when the League fell," she informed, unwelcome, painful memories rising to the surface. "Fires swallowed the entire city, and corpses were littered everywhere. Among the dead was Nasus, who sacrificed himself to save my life." The Kinkou Order erupted into chatter, until a large mallet pounded against the desk. "The one who killed Nasus was the League's newest champion, who turned traitor when his true intentions were shown."

The leader rapped his fingers on the desk quicker now. "An Ascended, slain by a newcomer champion…" he said to himself. Another council member piped up.

"I don't believe a word of this hogwash. The League is gone? Don't make me laugh. No enemy has the stones to declare war on the summoners. The Institute alone is impenetrable by outside forces without the summoners' say-so. Its security is the best in Runeterra. There must be an ulterior motive behind this meeting. Why would you deceive the Order?" he demanded. Poppy glanced at Rumble, who appeared to show signs of his normal personality, losing all sense of politeness and respect.

"Listen here, you stuck-up geezer," he snarled, which caused a few members of the council including the old man to gasp in shock. "The reason the League fell was because the seeds of destruction were planted within. Now this enemy, they have taken out Demacia, Noxus, and the League all at once. Some of the strongest champions in the world are dead. Tell me, and don't be flippant, how many Ionian champions has been in contact with the Order in recent notice? Let's say the Duchess of Ionia, Karma? How about the Captain of the Ionian Guard, Irelia?" The Kinkou Order remained silent.

"Whoever wiped these regions off the map, only the foolhardy and the dim would ignore such a force. Don't kid yourselves, because they are coming, and they are very powerful! They will come like a fire, and burn all of Ionia without remorse! So we ask for your help not only for our own sake, but Ionia's and Runeterra's as well. With your nation's communication technology, we can warn and organize the other countries and take a stand! We cannot do this without the help of the Kinkou Order, so, we ask you for the most urgent assistance."

The council stayed silent in thought. "Very well," the leader finally spoke. "A meeting will be called among the Kinkou Order to address this unknown adversary. For now, two rooms will be arranged for your party. From the looks of your current state, you four are in much need of rest." He hit that one right on the money, Poppy wearily thought. The older man was about to protest, but the High Councilman shot him a look, killing all resistance from his underling.

"Thank you kindly, High Councilman," Rumble thanked with a trademark sly grin.

* * *

An hour later, the moon had conquered the skies, and the four champions were escorted down a long, fancy hallway by an attendant of the Order. They strolled down the red carpet, passing by portraits of past national figures and oil paintings of old wars, where men who wore similar masks to the Order and bowled helmets rode horseback toward battle. A few minutes passed by before the attendant stopped at two intricately decorated sliding doors on either side of the hallway. "May the gods bless you with pleasant sleep," the attendant said, leaving the champions to their own devices.

Rumble scratched his head. Though he was hesitant at first, Rumble agreed that he would store Tristy along with some of the group's traveling supplies in a room at the end of the hallway. Of course, Poppy vehemently refused on letting her hammer out of her sight. "So how are we going to decide who stays in which room? Boys in one room and girls in the other-," Rumble's question was cut short by a slammed door, where Riven and Garen disappeared into. He looked at Poppy nervously. Poppy shrugged.

"Only one room left, might as well," she said, yawning loudly as she slid open the fancy entrance. Rumble opened his mouth to reply, but was too tired to argue, following his yordle friend inside the bedroom. Poppy's eyes widened when she stepped foot inside. "Wow…" she whispered in amazement. The room was quite large, containing a walk-in wardrobe that was positioned to the left, a living area with blue, silk cushioned couches surrounding a coffee table in the middle, and a bedroom area to the right. The left and right side of the room were slightly elevated. Open, circular wooden entrances separated each section of the room while in the middle, sliding doors with artistic canvases as its windows divided the palace bedroom from the outside balcony.

Rumble yawned, heading inside the bedroom area, and stripped himself of everything but his underwear, climbing up then collapsing on the queen-sized bed. He pulled the covers over him, with a golden dragon knitted into the red cloth. On each side of the mattress was a bedside table, and in the back of this area was a bathroom. The bed frame had tall posts on each corner that extended to the ceiling, where carefully crafted, burgundy and golden tapestries were spread across to each end of the posts. On one of the side-tables was a hextech lantern. Poppy followed him, setting her heavy armor aside and laying her hammer against the wall. The loose underclothing she wore felt freeing in the cool air of the room.

She approached the bed, slipping under the covers, and snuggling up to Rumble, in turn making the mechanic jump in surprise. "P-Poppy? W-W-What are you doing?" he stammered. Her purple eyes looked up toward Rumble's alert, yellow cat-like eyes.

"What does it look like? I'm tired," she yawned. Rumble fidgeted in the bed.

"Well if that's the case, I can sleep on the couch," he said, attempting to get out of the covers. His attempts were futile however, as a gentle but firm grasp pulled the boy yordle back into the sleepy form of Poppy.

"Stay here, it's much comfier here than a sofa. Besides, you're warm," Poppy said rubbing up against Rumble's body, making him shiver. His eyes peered down, where Poppy's bust enveloped his arm below the shoulder. Rumble gulped. It was at that point when Rumble's mind went into panic mode.

"Poppy, don't you think you're getting a little close, I barely have any clothes on and you...?" he stopped, looking at the shirt that started to slide down Poppy's shoulder. Rumble squeaked, cheeks beat red as he faced the opposite direction. He turned back and checked over the yordle girl with a glance. Poppy matched the direction of Rumble's eyesight, her own cheeks changing to a slight pink. Rumble squeaked again, terrified that he might get bulldozed by a Poppy Special. The Iron Ambassador sighed.

"I'm not going to hit you, Rumble. I know you aren't pervy, not like Teemo is anyway." Rumble exhaled in relief, relaxed until her words registered in his head.

"Wait, what about Teemo?!"

Poppy giggled. "You wouldn't believe how many stories Tristana has of catching Teemo in acts of perversion." Rumble blushed.

"I can't believe I was just compared to Teemo…" Rumble let out in a defeated whimper. Poppy laughed. She was too embarrassed to tell him, but the seventeen-year-old yordle boy was growing on her, and that unknown feeling she encountered back on the ship fluttered whenever she remembered Rumble's oath of accompanying her on her quest.

"You're nothing like Teemo. You're funny, caring, and sweet. I also know those times you looked at my chest were on accident," she said smiling, cuddling further up to Rumble, who laid on his back.

"You really mean that?"

Poppy nodded, closing her eyes. "Of course I do, lover-boy," she teased. Rumble's face puffed.

"Shut up…" he mumbled, Poppy giggling again. "You're just being nice…"

The two lay in silence in the oversized bed. "Is it just me, or have you been growing?" Poppy said. Over the past few days, she had noticed his miniature height had matched her own, and now beat her by a few inches. Rumble glanced at his own body, then at Poppy's frame.

"Wow, you're right," he said in astonishment. "Just…wow." Rumble chuckled. "Guess people will no longer call me a runt, huh?" Poppy shook her head.

Something Poppy had wondered about in the past crossed her mind. "Didn't you used to have a crush on Tristana? You told me she was wild, yeah, but I heard you secretly liked her." Rumble sighed, nodding.

"That was a year after I joined the League. As you know, I'm a year younger than her, and eventually I gathered up the courage to inform her of my feelings. She was nice about it, but I was rejected."

"How come you started crushing on me then?" Poppy asked. Rumble shrugged.

"I don't know. Honestly. One day I glanced at you, and from then on, I couldn't take them off. I remember asking my dad how he met my mom, and he told me he saw her in a café, and he never turned away. Eventually, my mom returned those feelings, got married with my dad, and had me."

"Wait, do you mean you want us to…" Poppy's face turned a light shade of pink again. "We do that, and then we have…" A short peep escaped her throat. Rumble cannonballed back into panic mode, blushing deeply.

"I-I-I didn't mean it that way! I-I j-just meant that's what my dad, uh, um…" Rumble stammered, completely stiffened in embarrassment. Over quiet minutes that refused to allow the yordles to drift into sleep, Poppy thought over what Rumble told her. Then it hit her. She could finally put a name to that unknown feeling that invaded her chest. The yordle girl smiled bashfully.

"I still can't get over that part of you having a crush on me," she laughed. "Me, of all people." Rumble rubbed his eyes.

"You're attractive, ridiculously brave, and unafraid to sacrifice yourself to defend your beliefs. Those are admirable traits, rare ones to find in the current world. Demacia was lucky to find you on that highway," Rumble spoke, fluffing up his pillow. Poppy smiled shyly.

"And you say you aren't sweet," she giggled. Rumble felt something soft and damp touch his cheek. Rumble's cat-like eyes widened in surprise. Poppy pulled her lips away, snuggling closer to Rumble. "You have traits of your own that are admirable, you know." The girl yawned, closing her eyes.

"Hey Poppy?" Rumble asked quietly, peering down at her. The yordle girl was already fast asleep. He shook his head, grinning. "Good night, Poppy." With that, his eyelids slowly descended, and the exhaustion from the day overwhelmed him, dragging him into deep slumber.

* * *

Orus trekked down the long, black, musty hallway. It was an area built centuries ago, and had not fared well to age. Vines and roots broke in and out of the chiseled earthen walls. The musty, moist air carried in breeze, which came from an unknown origin. The only reason the moldy support beams that hung across the walls and ceiling hadn't crumbled yet was due to durability spells cast on the old wood. The dark wizard didn't care much for the underground, as it constricted him from using powerful magic, in the event that Orus would cast an attack in a battle would risk bringing the miles of dirt down on top of him. But if this is where his superior and his brethren were stationed, then he tolerated the conditions.

When he reached the end of the path, a large mountain-stone door lay. Orus waved his fingers in one motion, magic glowing on around his fingertips. He spoke a magic word, and the door complied, dirt from the ceiling powdering to the ground as the entrance shifted inward. More darkness ahead. The mage stepped forward, enveloped in the shadows until a faint white light appeared. The light grew until Orus entered a vast room. It was built like the hollowed inside of a tower that touched to the underground 'skies'. Apart from the dirt hallway, this structure was fashioned with an astronomic amount of gray marble. Each level had caves symmetrically carven into them, with more darkness resting behind every entrance. Each level compared to the next had the carven caves laid like a brick wall would, a cave in the same place as the cave two floors below it. Orus called out in a forgotten language, echoing off the room's surface. The place remained eerily silent.

Then, Orus heard a familiar noise, the quiet clinking of clashing metal. "The human returns. Did you retrieve anything valuable?" a smooth voice cooed into the mage's ear.

"Nothing concerning you," Orus growled, flipping around, and firing a magic bolt at the figure. The voice cackled, as Orus glimpsed at a thin shadow dance across the circular walls of the room, until reaching one of the caves on the fifth floor, stopping and sitting down on the edge of the floor. He wore a tattered black cloak that hid his coarse, purple skin. His most distinct features were the blades that replaced his fingers, his beady red eyes, and his large, spine-chilling smile with teeth that had the appearance of shiny knives.

"I always enjoy toying with humans. They're so…fragile," he said, finding the right word. Orus face remained blank.

"You well know my humanity was forfeit a long time ago, demon," spoke the mage harshly. The cloaked person giggled with evil glee.

"Umbra, now is not the time for your trickster ways," a low voice boomed in the cavern. Umbra rolled his eyes, but complied with his superior's command. Suddenly, three forms escaped the shadows' grasps, each one appearing on a different floor. The first, who stood on the third floor, was dressed in a lost-age archmagi outfit, simple black cloth draped partially around the figure's torso in a diagonal shape, while baggy, belted pants covered his legs. His chalky white skin contrasted with his outfit, and was about Orus' above average height. On his head was a thickly wrapped black turban that covered his face, the only distinguishable feature through the cloth were his ghostly pale blue eyes.

The second creature was massive, who stood on the sixth floor. It was surprising how such a huge ashen, sleeveless tunic the person wore existed for his bulky frame. His leather pants were also ridiculously big, to which the demon easily was at least three heads taller than the dark wizard. His pitch-black skin was covered in grey tribal tattoos, a thin leather band dressed on his left arm. Orus noticed a black semi-disc similar to a shark fin lined the middle of the creature's bald head, the creature staring down at the mage with piercing yellow eyes. The most peculiar trait about his appearance however was his right arm, his natural black skin invisible behind craggy, amber crystals that outlined his hand and stretched to his shoulder.

The third Orus remembered to be the leader was the most intimidating of all of them, standing on the seventh floor. The only clothing he wore was a simple purple half-tunic that covered little more than his pelvis. While his skin was mostly black, the color slowly changed to crimson when it reached his chest area and face. He was very muscular and stood about a head taller than Orus. His facial features were his low cheekbones and his hard, black eyes with red pupils, posing as one of his biggest intimidating traits. Leathery, tattered wings swung out from his shoulder blades, pitch black from the top then slowly turned into a dark scarlet at the wing tips. In his hand, he carried a wicked obsidian lance.

"You should remember, Umbra, that he was gifted with our blood. He is a fellow brother," the leader chided. Umbra sighed.

"Yes, Tyr…" Umbra grumbled. The leader known as Tyr turned to Orus, gazing down from his perch.

"How much does Ryze know?" Tyr inquired. Orus grinned foxily.

"He deduced our end goal, but is unknown to the method of achieving our goals," the dark wizard informed.

"I assume the pyro phantom is still locked away in the Astral Plane?" asked Tyr. Orus nodded in response. "Things are moving accordingly." Tyr faced back to Umbra. "What is the state of the Ascended warrior?"

"The island nation of Ionia has imprisoned Renekton. As to now I can only guess his mind is slowly degrading into the animal his form takes, and still crazed with searching for his brother, Nasus." Tyr nodded.

"Eventually, we will need to free Renekton. He will be a great ally in the coming battle. For now, he's fulfilled his original task." Umbra snickered.

"That reminds me! I found the Skeleton Key!" Orus and his comrades' jaws dropped in astonishment. Umbra laughed with satisfaction. "Currently, it is in the position of a female yordle. The same key that Ira failed to retrieve eight human years ago," Umbra shot a look at the crystal-armed demon. Ira scowled at him.

"Continue to bring that up, and I'll wring your scrawny neck," Ira threatened. Umbra giggled with twisted glee. The archmagi demon sighed.

"Calm yourself, Ira. It would be unwise to throw a tantrum in such an aged sanctum," he said in a tranquil tone. The massive demon shot him a look.

"Shut it, Furom," Ira growled. Their leader ignored their bickering.

"Well done," Tyr applauded with a wicked grin. "The pieces are now all in play." Tyr's gaze once again shifted to Orus. "Now, my fellow brother, do you know where we are?"

"I believe we are directly below the City of Progress, in the Catacombs of Piltover," Orus replied. Tyr nodded, jumping off the edge of the seventh floor and gliding down to the base floor.

"Indeed. This structure was built well into the first Rune War. Originally, this place was made to store the city's deceased as a mass graveryard. It is also where the remains of our people slumbered after we were driven out of our empire by the Hero. I was barely a teenager when our race was almost exterminated through the consequences of the great war. Millennia has passed, and the only remnants of the Rune War are lost ruins and artifacts, as well as books under tight lock and key. But now the pieces are in play for our dwindled race to return and reclaim this world. The organization keeping the peace, the 'League of Legends', is now a rotting carcass. Many of their 'champions' are now carrion for the crows. Runeterra will finally remember the scars we left on her skin."

"I still can't believe that turncoat joined the League as a champion. And when we need him most, he's nowhere to be found," Umbra scoffed. Tyr sighed.

"Indeed, it would be useful if Aatrox and our sister Pes'te were here to support our goals. But they always were lone wolves, and we will live without their help." Ira chuckled.

"I don't blame Aatrox for joining though," he said in a deep laugh. "I would jump at the first opportunity to cut down such a worthy adversary, one that I don't have to search for myself. Especially enjoyable if I could cut down similarly powerful foes all at once."

Tyr placed a hand on Orus' shoulder. "You were gifted with our blood because you proved to be worthy, Orus. Your power and your intelligence has kept us far ahead of schedule. At the end of this, you will be rewarded for what you desire most." Orus nodded.

"Yes, Lord Tyr. I am already grateful to be blessed with our kind's strength."

Tyr grinned. He stepped back, shooting up into the sky to a cave near the archmagi-clothed demon. Orus glanced at Furom, Tyr, Ira, then Umbra. "The eve of war is upon us, my brethren," Tyr boomed across the catacombs. Few things remain before we retake Runeterra. It's only a matter of time." With that last word, the four demons disappeared into the caves. Orus smiled wickedly.

The dark wizard had craved for two things over thousands of years, since his life as a human in the days of the Rune Wars. Knowledge was a keen asset for Orus, but to acquire the books containing the teachings for the most powerful, ancient spells that were lost to history in the Rune Wars, he would become the strongest wizard in Runeterra's history. Knowledge, and of course, revenge.

* * *

The big-bodied warrior woke from his comalike sleep, rebandaging his wounds before he set off again. He cursed at the draining contents of his pack, eating a few wafers to tide him over for the barely conscious morning. Sense of time eluded the soldier, and he couldn't remember how long ago it was when his beloved home was destroyed. In the time since, he trekked across the sloping hills and the swaying plains, searching anywhere for civilization. Though time escaped him, memories certainly did not.

It started when a commotion started in the barracks. The warrior ran toward the towered building before it collapsed into rubble before him. That one event started a chain reaction in the entire city, where the warrior glimpsed at a mere being laid waste to a capital. Even the citadel atop the spiraling mountain that symbolized the city had disintegrated into ashes. Every civilian he tried to save died in his arms, the deaths of the children haunting the warrior the most. Within an hour, the once great capital of Noxus was a dismembered ruin.

The warrior was climbing the rising road in a residential district when he spotted the attacker. He was shocked to find his opponent was bigger than the life-size statue of the war hero Sion, who was said to be a goliath among men. In his mind, the warrior thought this must've been a titan among goliaths. The warrior's eyes didn't notice much, as the raging embers from the houses obscured much of his vision, he noticed the beast had a large crystal arm. He didn't think twice when he charged toward the enemy responsible for the destruction of his home. The clash of steel against rock reverberated through the district, the titan's crystal arm morphing into an absurdly sharp and durable weapon, fighting the warrior with it.

Now, the man walked across the plains and peered at his bandaged left arm, which was less than half of what it once was after that fateful encounter. The warrior wasn't one for retreat, and desired an honorable death, but the soldier was shocked to find this inhuman monster was experienced in warfare, and as an insult, left the once great captain a shadow of his former self: utterly broken and forced to continue his unwanted life. A reminder of losing not only a battle but also much of his pride.

The soldier's swollen feet ached on the plains, resisting against the furious winds that blew back the long grass. He growled in rage. Next time he would meet that beast, he would slay it and bring back his head. The bastard destroyed his home. His life. His pride. The Hand of Noxus would carry that demon's bloodied corpse as a trophy, or finally receive the death the soldier deserved. Darius would make sure of that.

 **This took me two days to write, and an hour to edit. But man was this fun writing. Hope you're as excited as I am, because things will only further descend into chaos! To the people who wonder about the fates of the other cities, don't worry, in the next few chapters places like Zaun and Piltover will be addressed. Anyway, drop a review cause they help me out a ton, thanks for reading my unknown works, and until next chapter guys.**


	12. Chapter 12: Whispers

**Hey guys, DL here**

 **Forget what I said last chapter about writer's block. For this chapter, the block hit me like a frickin' truck. I found out something while writing this out. Good romance writing is a lot tougher than it looks! Some might say it's 'easy'. But look back at that sentence and run over the word 'good', something many writers skim over just to please their own fantasies without any proper build-up or storytelling. I'm still skeptical if I'd consider it good. Anyone with romance experience, write a review on what I did right and what I'm missing. On another note, I have been away for awhile simply because high school speech is very demanding and unforgiving, so sorry for not updating for so long . Anyway, enough from the writer. Enjoy reading!**

The dewy morning was clouded in fog over the capital city of Ionia. Poppy yawned, leaning against the balcony rail. The cold air was cruel against her skin, shivering as she headed back inside. Gray light leaked into the bedroom. Poppy climbed up the bed, finding Rumble how she left him, sprawled across the bed, snoring. She bent down and tugged his chin hair, getting a nagging response from the mechanic. "Ay, woman!" Rumble groaned groggily. "There are better ways to wake me up." Poppy smirked.

"But I wanted to see that look of yours you have right now," she pointed at his expression teasingly. Rumble pouted as he slowly escaped the bed's shackles. He loosely pulled on a shirt, then joined Poppy at the center section of the suite.

"Seems the servants brought us breakfast while we were asleep," stated the yordle girl. Rumble nodded, licking his lips. In front of the two yordles was a giant tray with a various array of food across it. On one side was a large wooden bowl filled with steaming white rice, alongside thick bread with cross incisions on its surfaces and another bowl of large dumplings, two sets of chopsticks resting beside the Ionian style breakfast. On the other side were dishes they were familiar with, sausages alongside buttered toast and scrambled eggs. A strange blue fruit juice were their beverages. Rumble hastily made for the long sausage links and wolfed them down, while Poppy looked down at the chopsticks.

"What are these for?" she said, picking the thin pair of sticks up. Rumble shrugged, chomping off a piece of toast. She broke them apart, surprising her at the sudden snap, then tried to hold them in her hand. She growled in frustration as she continuously failed to hold up the sticks. "How the hell do they use these things?" Her friend laughed.

"These foreigners sure are strange." Poppy scoffed.

"We're the foreigners, remember?"

"Tomato, toma-to."

Poppy gave up on the eating utensils, grabbing a handful of rice, sniffing it. The pleasant scent made her jittery with delight. After that and a few dumplings, she realized these Ionian cuisines were more addicting than those back in Demacia. She spotted an odd-looking sauce beside the cross-cut bread. "Do you know what this is?" Rumble looked up at her with sausage links hanging out of his slobbering mouth. He tried to hide a smile, which Poppy didn't notice very well due to his stuffed face.

"You should totally try it. I hear it's a favored liquid in this country," he said, trying to stifle his quiet laughs, choking on the meat in the process. Poppy shrugged carelessly, drenching a dumpling with the odd sauce and downed it. She immediately regretted it as soon as the dumpling went down her throat. Her purple face added a crimson shade, Poppy fumbling for her drink before downing its contents barbarically. Rumble roared.

"Taste good?" he jested. Poppy shot him a dirty look as she tried to cool down her insides.

"Why didn't you tell me it was spicy?! Feels like Brand shoved a fireball down my throat!" she exasperated, now drinking straight out of the pitcher. Rumble's grin stretched wider.

"Why, I wanted to see the look that you're wearing right now." She glared at him, flailing like a maniac for a few minutes before her mouth cooled. "You're evil, you know that?" The teen boy giggled.

"You started the war," fired back Rumble. The two continued a while with their breakfast in peace before Rumble broke the silence.

"Um…hey Poppy?" he shifted uncomfortably. She glanced up at him quizzically. "Last night, don't you think it was, I don't know…a little weird how carelessly close you were sleeping next to me?" he asked awkwardly. Poppy wiped her mouth. She thought over her words for a moment.

"I don't know. Honestly," she replied. "It was just something that crossed my mind. I mean, there was only one bed, and I don't mind sharing."

"Sharing a bed is different than cuddling in one." Poppy blushed. "When did you change?"

Poppy pondered this. "I think, I think it was when you told me you'd help me search for the hero, even though you first thought my quest was pointless. No one has ever offered to keep me company. Most want me to stay still and abandon my mission. But when you said that on the ship, it made me feel happy." Rumble scratched his cheek, trying to hide his red face.

 _Dammit, Rumble_ , the boy thought. _There's no way she just returned your feelings. Don't get ahead of yourself. I mean, maybe she is that way. But she can't be. Can she?_ Poppy smiled genuinely, Rumble fidgeting with the rest of his meal.

 _I never knew what type of person Rumble was,_ Poppy thought to herself. _It's a shame I didn't get to know him sooner. I wish I hadn't been so hard on him before. He really is an innocent boy. Maybe…maybe something planned for me to meet him._ That feeling had stuck with the Keeper of the Hammer for quite a period. "Once we're done here, we should meet up with the Demacians," Rumble said. "Then we talk to the Order again."

* * *

Meanwhile, behind the locked door on the other side of the hall, Riven's eyes fluttered open. She turned to Garen, who slept peacefully next to her. She smiled, teasing hands wandering over his body. The brute of a man jerked awake, Riven biting her lip like a vixen. "How many times have you woken me up like that?" he asked. Riven chuckled, laying her head on his bare chest.

"It's been a while, so I thought I might remind us of the old days." Garen scoffed.

"C'mon, you know I can't stand that. I'm ticklish. It's uncomfortable."

"Oh please, you know you love it." Garen turned away from her, mumbling under his breath. "I thought you'd enjoy seeing my face after so long, and you turn away. Well, I can fix that." Her hand grasped his chin gently, moving closely as her lips embraced with Garen. The man jumped with surprise, but immediately fell under its spell. Riven's hands held the back of his neck, the first to break away.

"I missed that," Garen said sheepishly. The woman ruffled his hair.

"I remember the first time your eyes shined that way," Riven said reminiscently. "Quite a day that one was." Garen grinned.

"How could I forget? After that day, it felt awkward living under the same roof."

"Wasn't too bad. I mean, things led from one thing to another."

"Oh gods, that…I still remember the nervousness I had. I mean, at least it made us forget about how shitty the other half of the day was."

* * *

Riven rubbed the trickling sweat off her face and neck with a towel. Her foster father was especially hard on her and Garen today in training, ordering them to do extensive upper body exercises to improve their sword-wielding strength. The lord laxly kicked Garen's feet out from under him while he was wielding his wooden sword. "Posture is everything! If you want to survive in the military, you need to stand strong! Don't go weak in the knees or you will be run through," he had said. The two teenagers, now at age sixteen, enjoyed their sword practice, as difficult it could be at times. From stories that floated around the mansion, Riven learned the lord was once a respected captain of the army.

She glanced at Garen, who laughed with his father at his bruises from training. She smiled. Riven was starting to look at her friend differently. More affectionately. More lovingly. She wondered if he would ever notice. Because of his thick skull, she worried he never would, thinking of her only as his foster sister. But she still had hope.

Riven entered the dining room, Garen and her father following close behind. Riven's mother sat at the end of an elongated, polished oak table, Lux sitting quietly to her immediate right. The lady of the house wore her usual elegant, airy white dress, while Lux wore a short blue one. The older woman's blond hair lay loose around her shoulders, while Lux's was held in a ponytail. Riven's mother smiled at Garen and her husband, then momentarily a dirty look crossing her face when her eyes settled on Riven. "How was the practice today, honey?" she said to Garen. He groaned in response.

"Father's a taskmaster, to say the least. When I'm sparring, it's like fighting a rhino," Garen said, the three sitting down at the other end of the table. Lux smiled warmly at Riven, then vanished when her mother shot her a look. Garen's father roared heartily, his thickly muscled body quivering with laughter, stroking his thick brown beard.

"Just you wait, my son. Soon, I bet you'll be one of the king's most valuable soldiers. You are your father's son, after all," the lord rumbled. He turned to Riven and ruffled her short, spiky white hair affectionately. "And Riven here is most talented, as I've known from when I first saw her pick up a sword. If the generals see the potential I see in you, given time you could be one of the most respected swordsmen in the army." Garen grinned.

"She sure handed my rear end. Maybe with her around, _I_ should do women work." The two boys howled, Lux and Riven stifling chuckles. However, Lady Crownguard was not amused.

"With you around, that should mean Riven should act like the gender she was born as," she said with spite in her voice. "Your insistent pretending that you're a man has been bothersome for too long. You don't even dress properly." Riven put her head down, Lord Crownguard shooting a warning look at his wife, surprising her. Lux gazed at Riven sympathetically. Suddenly, the maids came in with silver trays. Once set down, the feast's lid was released, and the aromas of the meal escaped into the air. Almost every type of food imaginable was laid out in front of the family. A few minutes passed and the family was well into their dinner. Riven, Garen, and the lord each had a thick turkey leg in their greasy hands, brutally ripping off the cooked bird flesh with their teeth. Lux and her mother were the only ones that ate with utensils, Lady Crownguard peering on with disgust at their savage dining.

"I can't believe you!" she said to Riven, appalled. The white-haired girl stopped eating and turned to her foster mother. "First you deny your appearance and your duties, then you seduce my family into feasting like barbarians! How long will you make my stomach turn, girl?" Lux and Garen stared at their mother, mouths agape. Riven sat up abruptly, her chair squeaking jarringly as it moved across the floor.

"Well, maybe I'm not fit to be one. You heard Father, I have a future in the army! Maybe I was born to be a warrior. So, I'll become a patriot for my king and serve my country! What would I even do in a frilly dress and heels?" Lady Crownguard lifted her head in disgust.

"Why, be a servant girl of course. That's all your good for, and ever will be." Everyone was quiet. Riven suddenly sprinted out of the room, tears streaming down her eyes. The Crownguard family was stunned.

"Riven, wait!" Garen called out, getting out of his seat.

"Sit back down, Garen," his mother ordered. She was struck speechless when her good-natured son gave her a murderous scowl.

"Screw you," he growled, rushing after Riven.

After leaving the dining hall in haste, Garen took an immediate right up the fancy stained, carpeted staircase. Splitting off into two different directions, the next staircase on the second floor was a clone of the first, leading to the third floor. Reaching the top of the third floor, which was now at the height of a five-story building, he quickly passed the myriad of paintings and portraits of his ancestors, heading toward the end of the hall before pivoting right again, running to a room in the middle of the next ornate hallway. Garen put his ear to the door. He could faintly hear sobbing inside. "Riven?" he said.

"Go away…" she said quietly, loud enough for Garen to hear.

"Riven!" he called out again.

"Go away!" she answered. Garen grit his teeth, grabbing for the door handle. Locked. Garen was desperate. He clutched his elbow, facing sideways before slamming his shoulder into the door. It banged loudly, but barely budged. Garen's shoulder throbbed, but he didn't care. Once more, nothing. Twice more, nothing. On the third time, however, the door flew open, Garen plummeting to the floor before the heavy door closed behind him. A surprised Riven stared teary-eyed down at Garen. The boy quickly scrambled off the ground, stumbling to rush to her bedside. The room was large, similar to Garen's own bedroom. A dresser and mirror lay in the corner, alongside a closet wardrobe of clothes, in which most of its contents went unused. Riven sat with her head in her hands, on a bed with high posts and an overhang cloth ceiling and purple tapestries stretching from post to post.

Riven cried furiously as Garen rushed to her side. She tried to resist him, but gave in to turning toward him. She was shocked to see how pained Garen appeared. He clutched her shoulders, trying to find words to say, then glanced at her watered eyes, then just decided to pull her in. Riven did nothing at the start, then curled her fingers on his shirt, wailing filling the empty air as Garen laid his chin above her head, gently resting his hand on the back of her head. It felt like an eternity they spent there, and Riven wished Garen wouldn't let go the way he held her. When the eternity passed, Garen pushed her out a little, clutching her shoulders as he wiped a drying tear from her eye. Riven was the first to speak.

"Every day…she…she always scowls and…and spits at me," she sniffled. "Why does…she hate me so much…?" The twos eyes connected, staring deep into one another's: Riven's brown into Garen's blue. The girl's blue blouse was now drenched with tear drops, and her short, peachy-colored pants didn't escape the flood. Garen's green shirt and leather pants were wet as well.

"I want you, no, I _need_ you to know," Garen said urgently. "We may have been born into extraordinarily different situations, but fate gave me you. And I will never leave your side. Not here, not in the army, never. My shoulder is always free to cry on, and my body is always at the ready to be a shield. Even if Mother despises you, I still have your back." The two both hugged tightly, Riven rubbing her face against his pronounced shoulder muscles.

"Thanks," she smiled, rubbing the wet off her cheeks.

"Anytime."

Suddenly, Garen noticed the lack of light in the room, glancing at a nearby window and discovering night had already fallen. "You mind if you stay here a little while?" Riven asked quietly. Garen nodded. The two teenagers rested on the velvet quilt of the bed, watching the stars twinkle through the skylight above.

"I always loved this," Riven whispered, pointing at the glass. "Some nights when I went to bed, I was able to gaze at the stars and forget my daily troubles." They rested in silence for a long period, the little skylights shining brightly.

"To think, I'm the only one that knows you have a soft side," Garen joked. Riven elbowed him.

"And keep it that way. Remember I can still polish your ass and hand it to you." Garen laughed.

"My lips are sealed." Garen scratched his head.

"Remember the day I found you?" he asked.

Riven chuckled quietly. "How could I forget? You saved my life."

"I can't believe I was nothing but a small child back then," Garen continued. "I still forget what drove me to do that. Whatever It is, I'm glad it did." Riven smiled warmly at him, the two exchanging looks.

"The past eleven years were hard here, but it was all worth it because I found my first friend and family," Riven said. Garen scratched his cheek, lightly red in the face.

"It was nothing," Garen laughed. Riven mumbled to herself. She stayed quiet enough so he couldn't hear. "Hey, is something wrong?" Garen inquired. Silence. "Riven?" Garen sat up. He was immediately pushed back onto the bed's surface, finding Riven was now on him, sitting atop his stomach. Her hands were prostrate on the bed surface, her stiffened arms covering off any escape. Garen stared dumbfounded at Riven's sad, longing eyes, her spiky hair drooping slightly. Powerless to her. "Please…"

"What was that?"

"Please…"

"Speak up. I can't hear you." In the next moment, Garen was completely petrified by Riven's words.

"Love me…"

Every fiber of the boy's being tensed. He well knew the different meanings of those words, but struggled in interpreting her wish. He gulped. "Are you…alright, Riven?" He was quickly answered. Riven leaned down and embraced Garen's trembling lips. Her lips felt soft and plump, as well as a little damp. Sure, Garen had a weird feeling toward Riven grow in his chest, but Riven blew his expectations out of the water by returning his unclarified emotions. Emotion that grew with every passing day he spent with her. The bliss moment was gently broken by Riven, watching Garen's dazed expression through watery eyes. "Don't ever leave me. Please..." she sniffled. Garen nodded.

"Never," he replied. "One more time." His hands found themselves at the back of her hair and pulled her lightly downward. Riven's surprise at her sudden fall was muffled as she discovered herself back in the grasp of Garen's mouth. The faint moonlight that illuminated the room through the skylight was the only color that penetrated the darkness. Garen's lips were warm and wanting, almost scared to let Riven go. She had no problem with that. When the kiss was broken, a string of saliva hung in the air before dissipating.

"You felt that way…?" she asked softly.

"I already do. Do you?" Riven nodded, causing Garen to grin.

"More…" she said.

"Kiss?" Garen replied. Riven shook her head. Then it hit Garen. Hormonal lightning ricocheted through the bottom of the boy's back and catapulted into his brain. "More…? W-what do you mean?"

She glanced at his pelvis, then to hers, then back to his eyes. "Let me be with you…" Garen gulped.

"B-B-But, I mean, you don't…you don't really want…d-do you?" he stammered. His heart flipped into panic mode when she nodded without hesitation. "Are you s-sure?" Two nods. "What if someone hears us? What if I make you pregnant? We're only sixteen!" Garen squeaked. Riven beamed.

"You saved my life. I'm indebted to you."

"But I don't want you to feel like you need to pay me back! I would never take advantage of you!" Riven sighed affectionately, like one would toward a toddler.

"I want this. I wouldn't mind if you did. I'd be part of you. Don't tell me you're not also curious…?"

"I don't know..."

Riven smiled fondly. "I love you, Garen. Always will." The boy's voice caught in his throat, and could only slightly nod. "Now please, love me..."

Through an hour in the moonlight, under the starlit sky, childlike passion filled the moments. Longing and loving. Curious and heated. Sweat and saliva. Twisting tongues. A night that would stay vibrant in their minds for the rest of their lives. One that would advance their feelings in the years to come. One often looked toward later when loneliness choked Riven and Garen. Now, the two teenagers lay under the velvet blanket, holding the other's hand firmly. The white-haired girl smiled, joyous at how Garen noticed. Even if it did take a little push, and a little heartache. Her belly felt warm.

"Thank you…" she said softly. Garen squeezed her hand.

"I love you, Riven," he announced.

"I love you too, Garen." Garen kissed her cheek before slumber grabbed a hold of their fatigued bodies and minds.

* * *

Riven and Garen opened the Ionian bedroom door, discovering an unexpected guest. Ryze's stern, grave eyes moved from the woman, then to the man. A bad feeling crept up Riven's spine as Ryze spoke. "We have a problem."

 **So yeah, leave a review on how I should improve the romance writing because I'm fairly new to it. Right now, I wrote an experimental love story between Wukong and Ahri called 'Our Wild Hearts' to test my romantic writing and what feedback I would get. It only has one chapter so far, and I'm still adamant on continuing this story first, so don't worry. My message to other writers: remember to take that big orange pill in the morning or get ready for the writer's block two-step (ah, Robin Williams references). Anyway, thanks for reading my unknown works, drop a review, and so on. Till next chapter, guys.**


	13. Chapter 13: Party Crashers

**Hey guys, DL here.**

 **Getting this chapter out was pretty difficult. From school to state speech contests, it's been hard to find time to work on this story. Even continuing the plot, how to shape events, and characterization were tasking. But at long last, finally pulled it out. You have detailed opinions about this story, don't be shy to send them to me! Anyway, enough from me. Enjoy reading!**

Members of the Order choked in disbelief at the abrupt information. "A second Rune War?! Preposterous!" one of them exclaimed. Ryze clicked his tongue in annoyance. Poppy and the other four champions resided in the Kinkou Order's courtroom, currently transferring the shocking news to the unbelieving politicians. The yordle girl spotted Rumble fiddling with his hands, irritated how he could not be in the protection of his robot inside the courtroom.

"Men and their feeble minds…" Ryze grumbled, his words only audible to his allies. "I believe you've already acquired word of the grim fates of Demacia, Noxus, and the League of Legends." Some people scoffed.

"Demacia and Noxus were just casualties of war," the obnoxious man from yesterday said. "Most likely, they imploded through their lackluster form of government and sense of running a country. It was a mere coincidence the two of them fell at the same time." Others members boisterously agreed. Ryze's face twisted into a scowl.

"But the League fell as well, at the same time the countries did. As leaders of your own nation, you should well know this is too much for coincidence. The attack on the two kingdoms and the League was a display of tactical prowess hidden inside a declaration of war."

"Have any of the other nations retaliated?" the High Councilman asked. The mage shook his head.

"No news escaped from these tragedies simply because almost every resident in the three locations were slaughtered. For all we know, the four standing behind me are the only survivors."

"How could you accurately assume these are the only ones who escaped the atrocities?" a woman asked.

"I investigated the three sites and found every Warp Gate in the area was shut down. Meaning the enemy also has one, if not more, powerful spell-casters in its ranks. Spell-casters powerful enough to overwhelm the summoners themselves." But Ryze already knew that. Orus was the most likely suspect for short-circuiting the trans dimensional portals, but avoided jumping to conclusions that he was the only mage who attacked Valoran's finest. An image of a snickering Orus formed in his head, Ryze clenching his fists. "In addition, further inspection led me to discover every highway and checkpoint connected to these sites were demolished." The High Councilman nodded, some of his colleagues quaking with outrage.

"You said a display of tactical prowess was hidden inside their declaration of war," a calm, older man noted. "Could you elaborate?" One of the Order snorted.

"Declaration of war? Don't make me laugh. Most likely the summoners realized their envied power and avarice, to take over the other-,"

"Quiet!" the High Councilman barked, shutting the protester up. Poppy counted the council. The twenty-two members of the Order that increased from the dozen she first saw, were split down the middle on opinions of this news…wait. Was it twenty-two? The yordle girl's brow furrowed, recounting the council. Eighteen, twenty-five, sixteen, twenty-one. The tedious action started to break Poppy's brain.

"Hey Rumble?" she whispered to the teen mechanic, who stood to her immediate right, infatuated with Ryze's words.

"What is it?" Poppy pointed to the council inconspicuously.

"How many people are up there?" she gestured toward the Order's high post.

"Why? Can't you count?" Rumble asked. Poppy shifted uncomfortably. Understanding hit Rumble, grinning as he ruffled her hair.

"If this continues, I might have to school you myself," he laughed quietly. "There are twenty people up there." Poppy smiled, turning back to the heated conversation between the Rogue Mage and the Kinkou Order. The Order's behavior and reactions toward this enlightenment of possible war seemed to have split its roster down the middle, some obnoxious and loudmouthed who were in denial, traits Poppy recognized from paranoid rulers, while the other half was calm and collected, which included the High Councilman.

"To answer your question, the Warp Gates and highways were removed simply so that any witnesses couldn't escape and spread word too quickly." The High Councilman raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, 'too quickly'?"

Ryze grabbed his spellbook, opening it and hovering his palm over the pages. Tendrils of fluid magic seeped from the paper and were vacuumed into Ryze's own aura. Ryze chanted something Poppy couldn't understand, then rotated his palm to face upward. Suddenly, static blue magic flowed through the air, and like spectral claws, ripped apart reality. The rift formed a global image over Valoran.

"I've deduced that Orus and whoever or whomever he is allied with are intending to display their power, yet are going to great lengths to keep these events in the dark for as long as possible."

"Why try to keep it secret?"

"In actuality, they fully intend for the public to discover the collapse of the Institute of War and the city-states. However, the main reason for the sabotage of the Warp Gates and the international highways is to keep witnesses from spreading the word prematurely."

"Is this another tactic?"

"Indeed. To keep the people in the dark for such a prolonged period of time concerning such events would be catastrophic. Within that time, residents of nations that depend on the protection of the League of Legends would assume their protection is still in effect, and they would have much confidence that their overall safety is assured. However, when the news would finally reach the walls of these countries, and citizens would realize their bodyguard is no more, and that enemy nations might take their chance and attack, their confidence and their sense of security would shatter. Paranoia and panic would spread through the land like wildfire. Keeping these events in the shadows long after they originally occurred would skyrocket the level of fear in the people. As leaders of a country, you well know fear leads to discontent, discontent to outrage, then that outrage fueling the fire for uprisings." The rift closed, and the blue magics drifted back into Ryze.

Some of the leaders nodded, few physically expressing their uneasiness. "Nobles and governments will be preoccupied with frightened civilians. Their hands will be overfilling with so many responsibilities that they couldn't possibly address the source behind the situation's catalyst. While chaos ensues in the streets, Orus and his allies will further their own unknown agendas, all behind ever thickening shadows. They have even gone to lengths to release the monsters imprisoned inside the Institute of War, intending for the terror and distractions to only escalate."

Everyone in the room was dumbfounded by Ryze's words. Poppy herself was amazed at such manipulative skill. A middle-aged man of the Order spoke. "You sound like you're familiar with the enemy's actions." Ryze was silent. Uneasy tension inflated inside the Order's court.

"Because I am," Ryze said gravely. "It was one of many stratagems that I commonly saw in the Rune Wars." The obnoxious man abruptly stood up from his seat, pointing accusingly at the blue mage.

"This crazy fool believes he's even witnessed the world wars that transpired millennia ago?!" he spat, appalled. "I will no longer tolerate the preaching of a madman! Guards, seize him!" On cue, two darkly-dressed ninjas with green demon masks appeared from thin air, slipping ninjatō from their sleeves into their hands, attempting to grab for Ryze. The mage grit his teeth in anger, a blue aura now visibly flaring around his body. As their quick hands inched closer toward him, Ryze roared, his aura spiking before exploding outward. A powerful shockwave crashed through the room, breaking any furniture with its force, and sending the people around him flying. The high walls of the court cracked and splintered, the blue aura impacting, then staining the walls until the full interior of the building matched the features of the celestial heavens.

"It resembles the very skies itself…" the High Councilman breathed in awe at the newly painted surroundings. Poppy and the four champions stared in shock at Ryze as they could literally feel the power washing over the mage.

"Ryze, this is too far!" Rumble called out. The spell-caster ignored him, his piercing, illuminated blue eyes glaring at his aggressor, who currently found it hard to stand due to his knocking knees.

" _I_ will no longer tolerate your childish whining," Ryze scorned. "Man thinks he knows everything and lays dominion over the land, carelessly and without proper teaching. To the contrary, you all know so little of the world you traverse." The mage lifted a cupped hand, a translucent blue cage materializing around the Order member. "I would suggest you keep your tongue locked behind your teeth, as you have no control over it when it's loose." Ryze dropped the prison, the councilman breathing in relief. Suddenly, a shadow fell from the ceiling, dropping behind the older man, and placing a blade to his neck.

"Cowards like you are the reason Ionia has been diseased for centuries," the dark figure said. Through Poppy's eyes, the guest was draped in thick black cloth, with sleek shoulder plates and other armor pieces dressed over. Three skinny, crescent blades were positioned on his browbone. A few of the champions and others in the Kinkou Order jumped at this new arrival. The loud-mouthed man meanwhile yelped in fright.

"S-Shen?" he stuttered. "Y-You traitor! H-h-how dare you draw your weapon against your superior! Sheathe your blade at once!" Shen's mask furrowed from what Poppy assumed to be a scowl.

"I report only to the Grandmaster, who is currently bedridden," he replied with contempt. "I would never obey a plague carrier like yourself, who only earned that seat because of your past, corrupt bloodline. You and your kind are the reason we lost so many of our champions in recent events. You couldn't even keep Akali safe!" Shen bellowed murderously.

The High Councilman stared stoically behind his mask. "Shen, stand down."

"But High Councilman! It's because of this bastard that Akali-"

"Stand. Down. That problem will be addressed at a later date. Please leave."

The ninja reluctantly withdrew, disappearing as fast as he appeared. Poppy nudged Riven. "Did you see where he went?" she asked. Riven shrugged.

"Those Ionian warriors are a shifty bunch," she whistled. The obnoxious old man plummeted into his seat, reduced to a shell from utter shock. The eccentric wallpaper now dissolved into its original form, sucking all back into the aura of Ryze. A few of the Order exhaled in awe. The High Councilman rested his head on his knuckles.

"If what you say is true, that this stratagem is what Orus is using, what do you suggest be done to counteract their plans?" he inquired.

"Organization," Ryze said simply. "If Runeterra is to survive, the nations inside and just outside the borders of Valoran must unify as a central force. Though it is risky, nations should play on its people's fear, and use it to motivate them toward retaliation. So far, they've had the drop on nations through surprise attacks. However, if Ionia uses its renowned communications prowess to coordinate an offense and defense for the nations, it will delay whatever agendas Orus and his allies may have."

"Excuse me," a woman asked. "Are you sure that the other nations will cooperate? All of their ambitions are the reason we've been feuding for millennia." Ryze smirked.

"If the League of Legends is gone, they'll look for anything to keep their own safety in check. Even if it means making amends with former foes." The High Councilman chuckled.

"Our former Grandmasters always dreamed of unity with foreign peoples, but were never able to achieve it. I never thought I'd see the day." He clapped his hands. "Very well. We will use our magics and our technological ingenuity to contact the Valoran's governments and hold a summit."

Ryze reached for his spell book. "Nice to see some men have softened their egos. Maybe things aren't gone just yet." With that, he spoke a chant, slapping his hand against the stone floor before theatrically disappearing. Poppy felt relieved. She despised some of the stubbornness of the Kinkou Order, yet thanked that most of the organization's calm and collected personalities outweighed the negative. The High Councilman turned to the four champions.

"Your assistance would be greatly appreciated. With legends like you four on our side, we might have a chance against this terrifying enemy." Poppy and her friends nodded in unison, ignoring the grumblings from those in the Order's ranks. The leader smiled. "Thank you. Do as you please for now. If anything comes up, the Order will notify you immediately." Pivoting, Poppy headed for the thick oak doors ahead of her. She stepped back in shock. The doors started to wither, morphing until the now white, _tangled_ entrance completely closed off everyone from the outside.

"Aww, damn. I was looking forward to seeing Ryze again. Oh well, guess we'll have to settle for the children."

Everyone in the courtroom froze as two figures warped into the its center. One of them sighed sadly. "I wish Brand was still with us. Using him would really speed this up. Besides, I wanted to witness a being reduced to ashes once again."

"I might not be on the level of Brand, but I assure you, Furom, there will be ashes." The other one laughed maniacally. Traumatic memories flooded back into Poppy's mind. Before her stood a hooded, pale skinned man and Orus. The Kinkou Order scrambled out of their seats, a few backing against the wall.

"Intruders!" The High Councilman called out, making a threatening drop to the stone floor below unharmed, drawing out a thin sword. Behind him came a corps of ninjas, appearing on the ground, all distinguished by different colored, specially designed masks.

"Well, they'll fade away regardless," Furom said drearily. He turned his head, spotting the champions, who were now tensed.

"Dammit! I just had to go without Tristy!" Rumble whined, backing away from the front lines. Poppy tightened her grip on Whomper.

"These men are responsible for the atrocities in Valoran!" She yelled out. Orus chuckled.

"Good times."

Orus' reply and his surfaced, homicidal personality horrified the politicians.

Garen took a battle stance. "Get ready!" Orus widened his eyes in surprise.

"This man doesn't beat around the bush! I LIKE IT! How about we stir up some excitement, Furom?!" The demon-like figure exhaled sharply.

"Very well…" The elementalist rubbed his hands ecstatically.

"In that case, let's get this party started!" A gem in his burgundy skinned arm began to glow. The floor fractured in spider-web cracks around the two, some ninjas covering their face from the sheer power emitting from them. The battle's introduction had now begun. Orus lifted his hands, cracked pieces of the stone floor floating to chest-level. He clenched his fists, the stones compacting and shrinking. Poppy prepared herself for the worst. Orus licked his lips, crossing his prostrate arms before swiping outward. The stones abruptly splintered its contents like a hail of bullets. Many of the ninjas were propelled backward by the attack, some fatally injured from the myriad of pebbles embedded beneath their skin, while others including the High Councilman fled to the safety of the high walls, hanging by their weapons.

The champions shivered in fear, covering their arms. A purple glow emerged around the Keeper of the Hammer, shutting her eyes and tensing for the blows. But the earthen bullets never came. Poppy opened her eyes to find an armored ninja in front of her, crossing his arms. "I've been waiting for a challenge," Shen stated. "It was a mistake to attack this place. The best of Ionia are guarding this sanctum. For Akali, Kennen, Irelia, and the rest of the League, you will face judgment." A ghost-like sword hovered in the air, assumingly the source of the thick shield that coursed around the champions.

"Shen, y-you're a lifesaver!" said a shaken Rumble. The Demacians roared battle cries behind the shield. Orus rolled his eyes.

"Shen Fujiwara, the Twilight's Eye. Such a patriot with a noble heart." The dark mage cackled. "But so naive. Because here, _I'm_ the god who will lay his judgment!" Two gems in his arm glowed, Orus raising an outstretched palm. Currents of air visibly snaked around the mage's arm, then rested in his hand. Orus spoke a chant, intense fire erupting from his palm, merging with the wind to fuel the hungry flames. The flame raged forward, colliding with Shen's shield. When the embers cleared, the barrier held. Orus tsked.

"That spirit blade of yours is pestering," he groaned, sliding a hand down his disappointed face. "Then again, I should thank you for saving them. Gives me more time to practice some tricks." Furom clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"You're wasting time toying with them. I want them to wither…" the demon carped glumly. Orus shot him a look.

"Don't ruin the fun! You'll get your chance!" The hooded figure exhaled sharply, an ominous white aura flowing over his body. Poppy clenched her teeth. Though several casualties tallied within the first few seconds of the battle, it was only beginning. And with it, came a vengeance.

"C'mon guys! It's now or never! Take them down!"

 **I'm sorry this story wasn't as long as you hoped for. I tried to improve it best I could but this was all I could milk out of this chapter. For now, I'll take a small break, maybe two or three weeks, from this story so I can rest up. From state speech to IRL, to continuing this story, the stress has taken a toll on my psyche. Maybe after some R &R I'll have a fresh mind on how to progress the story. One thing I enjoy from writing this story is creating Orus' character. He's so fun to write. What are your opinions on the antagonist? What are your opinions on the story so far? Don't be shy, every bit of feedback is much appreciated! Anyway, thanks for reading my unknown works, drop a review, and until next chapter guys.**


	14. Chapter 14: Declaration of War

**Hey guys, DL here.**

 **Put down those torches and pitchforks, I know you've missed this story. And yes, I am partially to blame for that. I played too many hours of League of Legends, finished half of One Piece, finished Netflix originals like Luke Cage and Iron Fist, and Samurai Jack, and then I realized 'oh yeah, I have a story to finish.' But in all honesty I have become so busy in my daily life and the time I have spent on the story was used trying to improve the character's personalities and the overall plot and plot motivations. But the new chapter is out, and it has a lot of stuff packed in here! Forewarning: parts of it will get graphic, so bring your stomach. Why the hell are you still reading this lazy, dumbass author's note? Enjoy reading!**

The Court of the Kinkou Order lay in shambles. The pristine building which could be seen for miles across Ionia's capital was now disfigured, mutilating adjacent structures in its collapse. Its once glossy lawn was now splattered with ash and blood. The parallel pools that centered the pavilion carried a small layer of soot on its surface. A thin fog of dust enveloped the area. Each champion had at least one open wound, their shivery hands clutching their weapons tightly, intently watching the fog. Two silhouettes could be seen, one blowing the large cloud away with a swipe of his hand. Poppy winced as the howling wind. The yordle girl opened her eyes. Orus and his demon partner were in sight. Behind them, several corpses both shinobi and Kinkou Order, littered the debris. The wicked wizard held something in his hand.

"Well, Furom? Were those souls _tantalizing_ enough for your tastes?" he asked. Furom sighed.

"It was a decent meal. Most were mediocre, but I spat out a few," he replied, wiping the area of his black turban where his mouth was. "I despise the flavor of cowardice."

Poppy raised her hammer, poised alongside Riven and Shen. "Why are they not attacking us?" she inquired. Shen's floating spirit blade split down the middle, dropping into his two outstretched hands.

"They're toying with us."

Orus chuckled, licking his lips. "Maybe the sweet remains of some champions will lighten you up?" Orus furrowed his brow suddenly. "Then again, I don't think anything _ever_ has lightened you up. I dunno….what are your thoughts?" He proceeded to lift his hand, the object he carried becoming visible. The battle-hardened champions, the Demacians and majority of the surviving Ionian soldiers, grit their teeth. Others, like the remainder of the Kinkou Order and the yordles, looked on in horror. Rumble keeled over, just barely keeping himself from puking. Orus held a dismembered head by the hair for the world to see. It was the middle-aged coward who annoyed Poppy and her comrades. The head was frozen in an eternal state of horror, eyes white and jaw dropped inhumanly downward. Blood dripped from the severed body part, a pillar of spine protruding from its stunted neck.

"Oh, don't be shy! Spit it out!" Orus turned to Furom, who was currently rubbing his eyes.

"Why must I satisfy your twisted humor…?" he grumbled. From his back, several wisps of fog erupted, flying hastily around the being. One of the misty comets separated from Furom's pack and disappeared inside the skull. The champions and Ionians tensed. Suddenly, the head's jaw cracked and snapped back into place, however the tongue remained rolled out grotesquely far.

A voice squeaked from the head's moving lips. "OH GOD NO! PLEASE, PLEASE NO! I'LL DO ANYTHING! GOD PLEASE! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!" A high-pitched scream filled the air, its volume increased that seemed to stretch across the entire district. Even the strongest of wills shook. Orus scoffed mockingly. "Come now, old boy. You already know you're dead! Now tell me, you ever think Furom here will stop being a stick in the mud?"

Garen growled. "What matter of devilry is this?"

A series of bangs shot above the demons' heads, black smoke shrouding the enemy. Only for a second. The smoke cleared just as fast as it appeared, unveiling a squad of shinobi descending upon the duo, swords unsheathed. The mists that circled around Furom now changed course, an equal number of wisps rocketing upward and submerging into the ninjas' heads. More screams filled the obliterated courtyard. Poppy watched as several voices fought for dominance in each Ionian. Some ripped off their oni masks, expressions of terror written across faces. Their features twisted, two faces tried to conquer the other behind the symphony of cries. Rumble flipped behind and gave in to his heaving.

"How rude! I'm in the middle of a conversation with this fine gentleman!" Orus chided. He turned back to the deceased remains in his hand. "Now where were we…oh yes! You ever think Furom will crack a smile?" His response was the consistent screams of the poor man's soul. The mage frowned. "Fine then. If you don't want to answer me, then you might as well shut up." His hand wrapped around the exposed bone that stuck out from the neck and tugged. After a giant rip, the rest of the neckbone and the skull escaped the head. All that was left was the bleeding, mangled blob of skin. Still gripping the hair, Orus bounced it in his hand a few times, the lips still silently babbling its dreaded fate. Rumble peered up, then immediately went back to heaving. The rest were left petrified.

"Damn, that is gross!" Orus whooped. "Forget about dinner, Furom, I almost lost mine!" The mage sighed, tossing the flesh over his shoulder. It fluttered in the air for a moment before plopped to the ground, lost in the debris. The mage slapped the blood off his palms. "Now that that's done, who's next?"

The High Councilman snarled, holding some sort of communicator. "Have the Spell Containment Unit ready and mobilized! Those present, slaughter the two of them!" The Ionians burst forward. Poppy turned to Rumble.

"Stay back, Rumble. You're defenseless right now," she ordered, pointing toward the business district behind them. Rumble groaned.

"Don't remind me…." He said soberly, running off to safety. Poppy pivoted on one heel, and sprinted with the other champions toward the enemy. The evil duo prepared themselves. The wisps wailed, bee-lining for the Ionians. A few were able to avoid their initial direction, but those caught by the attack writhed on the ground.

"Don't let those white clouds touch you!" Riven ordered, flipping diagonally over one herself. Garen sliced through one with no effect, barely stepping of its way.

"Dammit! You can't even hit 'em!" Poppy got through the barrage, flanking Orus. She flipped Whomper in her hands, clasping it at the last second and swinging. A large wall of earth erected and blocked the hammer, the attack's redirected force causing Poppy to stumble backward. The dark mage snickered.

"You'll have to do better than that," Orus taunted. "Nasus would've put a little more heart into it!" The mage punched the rock wall, an enormous chunk busting out of its frame and colliding with the yordle.

"Poppy!" cried Riven. The Iron Ambassador coughed.

"I'm alright!" she called back. The form of Orus appeared above her, his hands ablaze.

"You won't be!" He reached forward. Poppy made it just in time to block his blazing hands with the hammer's hilt. She winced as the hilt quickly grew hotter and hotter. The hammer was pressed down to Poppy's chest.

"You should've died back at the Institute," he hissed, moving his hand along the hilt and clasping Poppy's. The yordle girl screamed. She smashed her head against Orus' skull, sprawling back a few feet. He was immediately distracted by Riven and a pair of higher ranking ninja. Poppy feebly clutched her hand, the fingers and knuckles flaring an angry red. She frantically reached into her pack, gliding along the contents surfaces until she found what she was looking for. Poppy popped open a waterskin and dripped it on her burn, whimpering. She picked up the hammer, hesitantly squeezing. The stretching skin felt agonizing, but her allies needed her.

Meanwhile, Garen and the shinobi had difficulty with the chalky white creature. _Wish we had some range on this guy. We can't even get close_ , the warrior irritably thought, dodging another wisp. Furom's bony fingers fluttered. "Still yet, I fail to find the one who will satisfy me," he sighed, tapping his staff against the ground. The demon suddenly slammed the butt of the staff down, a gray mist bursting outward at Garen and the shinobi's feet. Responding to this, several souls branched off from Furom and scattered, flying erratically until they disappeared beneath the surface. Shinobi closed in on the enemy and continued their assault.

 _Something's not right. No experienced fighter would ever make a movement without purpose._ Over the sounds of battle, the warrior's ear caught the sound of shifting pebbles. Frowning, the warrior plunged his blade into the earth. Small vibrations met Garen's hands. "Keep your guard up!" Garen ordered. "Something's comin'!" The shinobi who remained unharmed immediately bounced backward from the mage.

In the corner of Garen's eye, the dirt erupted, producing a pale hand that grabbed a man's ankle. The ninja was immediately thrown onto his back, with several more pairs of hands clasping onto the rest of his body. His screams disappeared when he was pulled under. Garen grinded his teeth. "Retreat to higher ground!" The Demacian's leg tugged. He peered down, two hands clutching his shin plates, followed by a half decomposed face. Garen made haste in impaling its head. He found a large slab of marble from the court building and vaulted to the top.

The debris-stained dirt started to splinter from hundreds of unearthing bodies. Each of them had similar, oriental armor, though most were brittle and rusted. The brute of a man cursed. He was known for conquering men, even slaying entire armies for the sake of his national pride. Zombies were a first.

His eyes captured the image of Riven, who was surrounded by Orus and the undead. A few meters away, the High Councilman decapitated a few foes, his subordinates swiftly closing in to aid. Garen turned to the shinobi fighting Furom, then back to the Riven. He gave into his personal feelings. Garen flipped off his vantage point, landing on a corpse, then forcefully made his way threw the fleshy wall in front of him.

Riven meanwhile, stood on guard. Two came forward, immediately cleaved through in response. Another rushed forward and raised its sword. Front-flipping, Riven sliced downward, shattering the ancient blade and splitting the zombie in half. Ki burst off her body, stumbling the leftover enemies. The bloodshed was about to continue until something sliced across Riven's cheek. She immediately retreated and surveyed for its source. She spotted Orus, who had an outstretched palm. Noise of intense breeze perked her ears. Instinct kicked in as she danced across the battlefield as blades of wind grazed her. Many zombies who acted as Riven's meat shields were sliced clean through by the barrage.

"It's been many years since I saw a woman fly so gracefully," said Orus. "It's too bad that same woman had to be a turncoat-," One gem dimmed and another suddenly illuminated. A wall of rock blocked against Poppy's swing, who winced at the sudden resistance against her burned hand. The wizard clicked his tongue. "Your mother should've taught you it's rude to interrupt a conversation." Orus raised a hand, another wall rising up behind him. "Wait patiently, I'll get back to you in a second," he chided Riven, who now wielded a full black blade that glowed a vibrant green. The two champions momentarily turned their attention from the mage to attend to the undead, bludgeoning and slicing their hideous remains.

Riven breathed raggedly, wiping the sweat from her frowning brow. "You don't know a thing about me."

"No?" Orus replied playfully. "Well, what I do know, Riven Elizabeth Dolstaine, is that your bleeding heart, rags to riches story is stomach-wrenching. No one ever cared for the feel-good example of Demacian compassion. It's disgusting! But, you fortunately redeemed yourself! Instead, you're now infamous across Demacia for your treachery toward your country _and_ the family who took you in. Now _that grabs_ attention! Well, you _were_ infamous until my associates burned Demacia to the ground." He covered his eyes, snickering haughtily. "The Crownguards _must_ have seen that taking a trashy mutt off the streets would never make you any more than how you started off: a trashy mutt." The mage erected another stone blockade, which Riven cut through like tofu.

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" Her blade flurried in the air, each swipe laxly dodged by Orus. Poppy, removing the pests around her, noticed the erratic movements of the Exile. With each attack made by Riven, she seemed to sweat excessively, her deep breaths almost a desperate clinging for air. Poppy took the head off a zombie with the hilt of her hammer, peering closer. The area around the two combatants was blurry, and distorted further by the second. An orange gem on Orus' arm was glowing.

"Riven! Get away from him!" Poppy's words fell on deaf ears. Every attack left Riven's limbs heavy. The heat was almost unbearable. But she wouldn't let that red bastard speak of those lies freely. She wouldn't let him insult her nation. She _couldn't_. Orus snorted.

"And here I thought you were an impressive swordswoman! This is just pitiful!" he taunted, bending over backward to avoid a reaching swipe. Riven roared, only advancing the mage's amusement. Riven flipped, her blade descending onto the enemy's figure. "You just don't understand what you're fighting, do you?" He fired his palm toward the blade. A loud bang, and Riven was blown backward. Poppy tried to move closer, but another wave of undead blocked her path.

Riven sat up, staring at Orus. The black blade she wielded proudly was now shattered once again. A small sphere of fire rested above Orus' hand. A dark mist wrapped around his shoulder, helixing down his arm until it reached his open palm, wrapping over the fireball. Polluting the small spark, its color changed into overlapping reds and blacks. Orus closed his fist, his knuckles turning white before reopening his hand. The fireball was much smaller than before and produced sounds similar to a high-powered blowtorch. "Lucky for you, I'll freely offer you a gift. Your past sins will finally be purged with hell-fire." He cocked back his arm. For the first time since she met her, Poppy saw fear in Riven's eyes. She spotted Garen, who called for his friend's name vainly. He'd never get to her in time.

"Goodbye, Riven," said Orus. He fired his palm forward. His body suddenly stumbled sideways, less than a second later a large boom resonated across the battlefield. An eruption of black flame scarred the land. The long, rectangular parallel pools outside of the fallen courtroom splashed powerfully as the wave passed. Entire armies of corpses were charred, some reduced to nothing but ashes. On a nearby building, a blue-furred boy rested what appeared to be a large, makeshift cannon on his shoulder. Rumble sighed in relief. "Not a second too soon."

"Rumble!" Poppy cried. A scream grabbed Poppy's attention. Riven's body thrashed as fire licked the full length of her arm. Garen broke through the remaining zombie barricades, joining Poppy at her side. The man frantically searched through the bag on his back, finding a large blanket to throw on the flames. Thankfully, he was able to put out the fire. However, when the cover was removed, Poppy gasped. Any burns she had in the past paled in comparison to the flaring dark crimson, partially melted skin.

"Water, Poppy!"

Garen's voice didn't reach her ears. Riven's harsh complexion mixed with the fear that controlled Poppy's brain unsettled her stomach. A turn of the head and she saw in front of her what was a massive pole-shaped crater, fires still raging upon what was left of the grass and the degraded bodies. Poppy's entire body quivered.

"Water, Poppy! Water!" Garen snapped the yordle out of her panicked thoughts. A few moments and a rummaged bag later, Riven shrieked, wrestling against Garen's grasp as Poppy delicately poured liquid on the wound. Shen's unexpected presence jumped the yordle, who soon sighed in relief.

"What the hell are you three doing?! We're in the middle of a war zone!" Shen exasperated. Poppy raised an eyebrow.

"What do you think?! One of our own is badly injured!" she spat back.

"That is no excuse! The fate of Ionia rests on this pavilion, and every second spent should be eradicating the enemy! Leave the wounded and fight!" Poppy and Garen scowled at the shinobi.

"I don't know what this country's beliefs are, but if you abandon an ally on the battlefield, then you are worse scum than what you're fighting!" Poppu fired back. The Ionian's mask twisted into a frown.

"There is too much at stake to break away from the fighting and attend to one soldier! As a veteran fighter, you should well know this-," The spirit blade fired toward Shen's figure, emitting a field of blue energy in time to deflect an enormous fire roaring across its surface. When the smokescreen of heat dissipated, Poppy shifted her gaze to the warlock, shivering with anger to the point he appeared unhinged. Orus dabbed his fingers at the large cut on his forehead, then wiped away the blood that seeped into his eyes. The burgundy man's vision darted hastily before his eyes caught on the rooftop Rumble stood on. His hands sizzled before spontaneously combusting, raising his hands toward the unharmed buildings. Dark mists flooded over his arms and into the flames, changing its shape as how it looked before. The embers divided five ways in each hand, orbiting over Orus' hands before launching the barrage toward Rumble.

"Ah, shit." The yordle boy was soon shortly cut off as the blaze ruptured the building's frame, momentarily crackling before collapsing from the attack. Poppy watched intently as Rumble's figure flew out of the top of the flames, bouncing from rooftop to rooftop as a screaming Orus fired projectiles at the teen. Each missile from the mage acted like an ignited bomb, sparks flying like shrapnel as structures toppled one by one. One blast blew Rumble sideways as he leapt from a vantage point. In mid-air, Rumble cocked back the cannon and lined it up with the mage.

"Eat this!"

The cannon kicked back with a flash. Within a split second, as if in slow motion, a bundle of rockets unlocked from their confines, a vicious spinning drill on the front of each, speeding toward their target. This took Orus by surprise, panickily glancing at his arm. Just as the orange gem implanted in his skin started to dim, the rockets impacted. Smoke and debris splintered. Rumble landed on the terracotta ceiling of a shop, skidding momentarily. When the smoke cleared, an unveiled Orus clearly did not escape unscathed. A blackish purple energy flowed around his form, hovering over small burns and embedded shards of metal.

"Why didn't he block the rockets…?" Poppy thought aloud. Garen shook her for attention, pointing toward her bag.

"Grab some gauze. We need to get this wrapped up." Riven now lay passed out, her skin now an ugly blemish of body liquids and dark reds.

"You are wasting precious time," Shen growled through his teeth, slicing away a pack of undead that strayed too close.

"You go on speaking that scummy trash and I'll spend my time throwing you to the wolves," Poppy spat. Rumble's blue head popped over the incline of the shop roof. He noticed three champions huddled together around someone. From this distance, he couldn't place the person's identity. His gaze moved to Orus. The mage's unkempt rage could be seen washing over him. Red and black magic flowed around his frame, Orus clenching his shaking fists.

"You puny mortals think so highly of yourselves, huh?!" seethed the warlock, spheres of black magic assembling in his palms. "Back in my day, all of you combined couldn't stop the weakest link of a nation's army! The Rune Wars would have devoured you all!" Shen's mask furrowed.

"Rune Wars? Does this lunatic know what he's spitting from his mouth?" Garen tapped Poppy on the shoulder.

"Watch after her." Three words were all that needed to be spoken. Garen plunged his broadsword into the dirt at Shen's side. At one point, such a wall of tanks would send fear even among champions' spines.

"Your fruitless efforts are all for naught. You won't stop us from reigniting the Rune Wars! So just do me a favor, and DIE ALREADY!" He slammed the spheres together, condensing them. On one knee, Poppy slammed Whimper's hilt into the ground, right behind Shen and Garen, who readied their weapons. The High Councilman and the other shinobi stared with jaws agape. Furom rested against his staff, watching with cold, stoic eyes. Meanwhile, Rumble fidgeted with his cannon, anxiously reloading the barrel. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon you damn thing." He turned back toward the fight scene. He already knew it was too late.

Orus let loose the blast. A radiant omen drifted at the speed of sound toward the three champions, large enough to engulf a full-built Order courtroom. Rumble tried to speak out, but his voice refused to move from its silence. Dread strangled his lungs. The other champions felt it too. That this might be the end.

The blast never impacted. The space in front of Poppy was abruptly torn, a blue, wavy plane full of emptiness capturing all of its power. The sheer amount of magic froze every combatant. When the attack finished, the rift repaired itself and warped out of existence. Ryze came into view. Beads of sweat dripped off every section of his body. Every breath sounded like a gasp.

"Took you long enough," said Garen. Still panting, Ryze shot the warrior a look.

"Be glad you're still remaining after that spell. If I didn't make it…here in time, this entire field would be decimated." Orus noticed the new arrival and howled.

"You will not save them, Ryze! They'll end up as you left our families, friends, professors, neighbors! I'll make sure you remember their deaths! After all, the only reason why so many died in the first place was because of what's hidden inside that scroll on your back!" Ryze frowned.

"On my mark, rush him," he informed, struggling before finally creating a blue sphere.

"You can't stop me, Ryze! You will not deny me my Armageddon!" Orus pulled out a carven stone that fit in his hand, marked with a translucent scarlet marking. A white fog wisped in the sky and fell to Orus shoulder, gripping it as Furom solidified. Ryze's tired eyes suddenly rounded to saucers. Fear was even seen in Furom, who tried negotiating with his comrade.

"We've done enough here! You cannot use it!"

Orus tried shaking him off. "I can and I will! I'll wipe these stains from the face of the earth!"

"Think rationally, Orus! You can't!"

If beings as powerful as Ryze and Furom were shaken by something like this, Poppy well knew she should be terrified as well.

The surface of the pavilion cracked, and each body on the battlefield felt heavy. Garen and Shen fell to their knees, tightly holding their weapons. The stone in Orus' hand started to pulse. "How do you know of the World Runes?!" Ryze called out, who was the only one among his peers to remain standing.

Orus slid his tongue across his teeth. "Oh, my old friend, wouldn't you like to know!" Rumble cocked back the cannon's slide, jumping off the roof. Orus lifted the stone into the air. "Prepare yourself, Ryze!'

The cannon banged. The rockets exploded, throwing Orus off balance just enough for Furom to grapple him with a white mist that wrapped around his appendages. A portal warped open behind the two. "Furom! Let go of me! Let go!" His ally silently pulled the mage toward the portal. The stone throbbed violently. Just before Orus was dragged through, a final pulse triggered. Serpent-like shadows burst forth from the stone, digging into the dirt and swiftly worming in and out of the ground towards an unprotected Riven. Garen tensed.

"Riven!"

The shadows grabbed hold. Dark shackles locked around Poppy, extended as a human shield. She alone had time to save Riven. Garen and Shen rushed to her side, the yordle girl already being dragged through the shadows. The two men grabbed hold of her arms. They strained and fought, but Poppy was further and further pulled deeper into the darkness. Rumble dropped the cannon and sprinted. He had to make it in time. He had to save her.

 _Dammit, man! Of all the times in your life to do something, just run! Run! Run! RUN!_ Anxiety and adrenaline tidal waved through the boy's body. _Move faster! C'mon! C'MON!_

Ryze now aided the two warriors, blue tethers winding around Poppy's wrists, tugging tightly. But it was a losing fight. Poppy was now to her shoulders in the shadows, gripped with an emotion she rarely felt: despair. The shadows now wrapped around her shoulders, dragging Poppy down to her neck. Rumble was so close.

Tears escaped Poppy's eyes. "Rumble!" she called out pleadingly. Rumble dove.

He ignored the pain as he made a hard landing, instead frantically searching for something to grip. Rumble found nothing.

Poppy was gone.

 **Ooooooh boy if you guys hated me before, I bet you _really_ hate me now. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter though! I'll post new chapters occasionally (hopefully sooner than later, sorry about that). I think I've got the plot and setup for the next few chapters planned out and ready to put on digital paper. Well guys, as always, thanks for reading my unknown works, smack a review on this story so I can improve my storytelling, don't forget to like and subscribe (dammit have I become a YouTuber now? What is my attention-grabbing life coming to...), and until next chapter guys!**


	15. Chapter 15: Into the Woods

**Hey guys, DL here.**

 **Back with another chapter, and I'm real excited where this story goes. Some of you guys have anxiously waited for this certain chapter, and I've granted your request. By the way, some of you guys drop a review or PM me about how this story's going, whether its something negative or positive, I don't care. I'm just getting antsy from the lack of feedback the past few chapters, to which I'm laughing at myself. Anyway, enjoy reading!**

The dreary clouds cast gloom over the horizon. The forest of giant oaks lay in silence. Not a chirp, howl, buzz, or growl could be heard through the ominous quiet. Crunching leaves and twigs broke the silence. Dragging breaths soon followed after. "Where the hell is water when you need it…" the weary traveler said, cursing after discovering the drought in his pack. The haggard man was grateful to have escaped the cruel grassy plains, but his dwindling supplies made him realize how long it'd been since he had to survive on his own.

For several hours he combed the woods, an observing eye constantly scanning his perimeter. The lack of wildlife and sounds of nature unnerved the traveler. It was too quiet. Even the darkest of pits had some bug skittering across its surface. But this place, the gray of the downcast day and the forest's lifelessness made even the hardened drifter uncomfortable. The shifting armor under his raggedy coat clattered softly with each step. As odd as this setting might be, the man knew from bred instinct and training not to let his guard down. Maybe life was present in this forest, watching him silently and waiting for a moment where he was vulnerable.

The traveler was about to give up and settle down for the night when a soft trickling pricked his ears. He slowly moved to one random direction to the next, trying to locate the sound's path. His vision was fuzzy, but he shook it off. The trickling came somewhere behind a tree line of closely knitted oaks. Sprinting in this direction for a minute, a sliver of blue caught his eye. Hope came back. The sliver grew wider and wider until he found himself at the bank of a stream. The traveler almost collapsed, dropping his war axe when he scooped water into his hand. Guzzling so much water, the man forgot to breath and started choking, pounding his chest plate. A harsh pain hammered against his torso, causing the man to curse. "Dammit, get your head together. You were one of the strongest men in the world. Act like it."

Getting the rest of the water out of his lungs, the man peered at his distorted reflection in the stream. The scar that stretched from the middle of his forehead through his eye and down to his cheekbone was now accompanied by a second cut, this time running diagonally through his eye and across his lip, forming an ugly, ridged X. The traveler washed the dried blood from the myriad of cuts off his face. The throbbing pain was irksome. He should've been left to die. Not left beaten with several broken ribs, more lacerations than he could count, and a concussion that kept his mind from thinking straight.

The drifter dropped to his rump. Trekking across the vast landscape of plains and hillsides with such grave injuries not only wore him physically, but also mentally. His dwindling rations didn't help matters either. Matter of fact, the man didn't remember finding any fruit or berry bushes. Odd for a forest in this region, which should be abundant in the natural sweets. Then again, he couldn't blame himself for being so distracted, for focusing on a new environment let alone traveling days through unknown terrain would cripple lesser men.

Scooping a puddle into his hand, the traveler patiently revitalized himself. His eyes laxly scanned over the tree line in front of him. His vision began to shake, bringing him to clutch his forehead and attempted to shake away the pesky ailment. The man tried blinking. His actions were still in vain, the mirrored setting and his shifting perceptions making his head ache. The traveler took another sip from his palm. Though the liquid soothed his throat, his now griping stomach and throbbing skull pressed his momentary comfort.

In an instant, the scenery changed. The dark, stalky trees were replaced by innumerable spikes, each with an ornamented skull on its point. The grass surface of the forest mutated into a desolate battlefield, churning the mopey skies to a smoky backdrop highlighted with raging fire. You couldn't even take a step without landing on the remains of a mutilated corpse. The scenery changed once again. This time, the man was in the broken husk of a once great city, filled to the brim with debris and ash. The traveler could almost taste the black powder in his mouth. The spiraling rock pillar and the citadel that rested at its peak which once symbolized the nation, was laid to waste down to the pebble. The man's jaw quivered.

"Not this, I don't want to see this…" he ordered his disobedient eyes. He tried shaking his head. Another bleak picture twisted the landscape, this time a field stretched before him. Rows upon rows of decomposing bodies in common clothes hung from crosses. One of the bodies wheezed, a soldier that the traveler recognized.

"Darius, why didn't you avenge us?"

"I-I…" the man stuttered, lost for words as he shivered violently.

"Why Darius? Why couldn't you avenge us?" The sounds of a nation thundered.

"Stop this! No more!"

A few more images passed, each equally haunting as the last. Darius' failures revisited him in a sick slideshow. His skull groaned and his vision further degraded, prompting the drifter to prefer blindness over the atrocities before him. Something filled his throat. Darius keeled over, hurling anything left in his barren stomach. The hallucinations shifted. But this time, the image surprised him.

Rays of light peered through a bedroom window. The room was small, with little furnishings other than a stout bed, a dresser, and cylinder hangers that held up a massive axe. Darius quickly recognized the person curled under the covers was a younger version of himself. His youthful self was soon disturbed from his slumber. A small girl in a light blue nightgown stood at his bedside, pouting.

The afflicted traveler's eyes widened to saucers. "No, no, no, no, no! Please, not her!" Darius pleaded softly.

"C'mon already, wake up. I'm hungry." The child closely resembled the man, most noticeably her smooth, perfect black hair that flowed over her shoulders to the center of her back. The younger Darius grumbled, wiping his face with a hand. "A good morning is more polite." The little girl's lips pursed.

"But I'm too hungry to be polite." This made the sleepy man smirk. He ruffled the kid's hair, causing her to giggle.

"Just wait a few minutes. You'll be filled in no time."

Wiping the sleep out of his eyes, the young Darius threw on a pair of lounge pants, stretching his heavily scarred, muscular body, then exited the bedroom with the girl. Passing through a narrow hallway, he glimpsed at old pictures of the duo with a stunningly beautiful woman. They entered a tiny kitchen, which looked over what could barely be called a living room, the only furniture present were an ancient sofa and a large leather reading chair. The girl repetitively requested for bacon and eggs.

"You sure have an appetite for your size," the man laughed, firing up the stove and slapping a frying pan on its surface. "What do you say for me making you breakfast?" The girl remained quiet, fidgeting. Darius cupped his ear. "What was that?" The man cooed. "I can't hear you."

"Thank you, Daddy…" the girl replied hesitantly. She received another hair ruffling.

"That's my girl."

Meanwhile, the conflicted older version of the traveler watched on in horror. "Please, stop! Please!" he begged in vain. The hallucination continued with the two sitting at a table. The child quickly devoured several pieces of toast.

"Anything interesting happen yesterday?" Darius asked, popping a flat egg into his mouth. The girl stiffened, remaining silent for several moments. "Well?"

"I got in trouble with the teacher again…" she said quietly. Her father sighed. "What happened?" The older Darius had clear memories of the repeated talks on this topic.

"Well, Tylen was getting bullied again. Those meanies made fun of how he didn't have a daddy. So when I told them to stop hurting his feelings, they made fun of how I didn't have a mommy…" The table edge softly crunched under Darius' grip.

"Then what'd you do?" young Darius attempted to speak as calmly as possible.

"I…I hurt them real badly…" Darius raised an eyebrow.

"How many were there?"

The girl nervously nibbled on a strip of bacon. "Three. I gave two of them black eyes, but the biggest meanie, I broke his wrist." Darius made a mental fist pump.

"I was in big, big trouble. Please don't be mad," the girl sniffled, resisting tears. The young Darius rose from his chair and picked the girl up in his arms, the child proportionally small to his gigantic biceps. His daughter was too much like her father.

"Don't you worry about a thing. You showed your strength to those bastards. I can't be prouder. And to be honest, if you didn't teach those boys a lesson, I would've." The girl beamed brightly.

"Am I really strong like you are?" the girl giggled. The young Darius chomped his teeth playfully.

"One day, you might be even stronger than me." He raised his girl up and down in his hands, laughing as they spun around.

The older Darius' jaw fiercely trembled. "Stop, please…" His young self and his daughter continued laughing childishly.

"Stop." The laughter rung in his ears, Darius' gut sick from his blurred vision and poked memories.

"Stop it." His brain was flooded with the past. An unwanted, unforgiving past.

"Stop!"

All he heard was his little girl's voice.

"I love you too, Daddy!" she cried gleefully.

"STOP!" the weary Darius howled.

The hallucination shattered. The man now lay curled up and shivering in a ball. "No…more…" Black settled into his eyes. Exhaustion washed over his body. "No…" The visions subsided, and the world turned to black.

Snapping fingers perked Darius' ears. He groaned, attempting to sit up. After a large thud, the traveler was irritably reminded of his lack of an arm. His sight focused on a scruffy man in a brown cloak. He appeared to be about a decade older than the warrior, middle-aged. Darius blinked.

"Who the hell are you?" The stranger grinned.

"So it speaks," he jabbed in an accent uncommon to Darius. "You looked dead when I found you." Darius shook his head, failing to rid himself of an irksome headache. He slowly stood up, giving the man his full attention.

"Who are you? And what are you doing in a place like this?" interrogated the Noxian. The stranger smirked.

"What are _you_ doing in a place like this? You're either real stupid, or really, _really_ desperate to come here." Darius grinded his teeth. He loathed dealing with smartasses. Most times, the smartasses attitudes wouldn't last long. Their rebellious natures were beaten out of them in the army. But the former captain could smell an ego on this one.

"Keep talking, dipshit. Wait and see what happens-," Darius keeled over, clutching his ribs. His eyes turned to the ground, focusing on a pebble that was fired from the outlander's finger. "You son of a…" he groaned.

"Is that any way to talk to the guy who saved your shiny ass?" the scruffy man sighed, pulling off his hood. "You're lucky someone even came along in this damned place." Then Darius suddenly noticed the terrain was unfamiliar. A campfire crackled quietly in front of two skinny logs, adjacent to a much larger river. The logs were cut down the middle, its top a carved, flat surface. By the wood, his armor and ax lay in a heap. The forest's grim lighting had darkened even further. He had been moved.

"Hey, where the hell am I?!" Darius growled, glancing at his surroundings frantically. The cloaked figure rubbed his eyes.

"You ask that question when you didn't have the slightest idea where you were beforehand? I'm starting to think you're just stupid," he snickered, squatting onto one of the logs. "Sit." Darius' temple pulsed, but he was still dizzy and desired to take a seat. The Noxian's stomach abruptly rumbled.

"Hungry?" the stranger inquired smugly. Darius frowned.

"Quiet. What is this place?" This only amused the man further.

"I can tell you what you wish to know. I can also put some food in your stomach," he said, stroking his short, shaggy goatee. There was an awkward silence. Darius rolled his eyes.

"What's the catch?" The stranger grinned.

"Ah! I'm glad you asked!" he proclaimed, pulling open his cloak and reaching inside. "Now, the condition: you have to win for what you desire." He pulled out his hand, holding a deck of cards. "Beat me in a game, and your wish will be granted. You know Bilgewater Ante?" Darius nodded. The odd man shuffled the deck flashily, each card flying through his hands before setting up the bridge, swiftly shifting the cards in a way that allured the Noxian's eyes. Then a thought crossed his mind, raising his eyebrow.

"You said you'll tell me about this place if I win," Darius said suspiciously. "What do you want?" The cloaked figure glanced at the warrior, then returned to shuffling. He placed the deck on the log, dealing cards faster than Darius' eye could see. Letting out a deep sigh, he finally addressed the Noxian.

"If I win, I get to keep this," he said, reaching into his shirt and unveiling a golden necklace. On the end of the necklace, a pendant with a ruby center swayed. Darius growled.

"You little rat!" As he attempted to move, a small barrage of pebbles bounced off of Darius' ribs. The stranger took pleasure in Darius' malicious looks. "Hand it over!"

"Only if you win," the man replied, twirling the necklace around his finger. "Call it your payment for me taking time out of my day to save you from the phantasms. Plus, it was the only thing valuable on your person. Well, other than your freaking _massive_ ax, but if my appearance didn't already tell you, I'm not an axe guy," he rambled, reaching back into his cloak and dividing a large handful of poker chips between the two of them. Grabbing his hand, the man split the cards off one another's backs, making a sound like a fan opening. Darius scowled.

"Shut up. Hand over the necklace, and I might not snap your scrawny neck." The shaggy man laughed.

"You should save that fire in your belly for when the match begins," he said, placing his hand on the top of the deck. "Now, let's see if luck is with you on this draw!" the man dramatically flipped the card: the King of Clubs. He pondered his options for a second before pushing a few chips forward. "I bet four."

Darius sighed. He was cornered. "I raise you two," he replied, moving a pair of chips forward. The top of the deck was flipped and placed next to the card on the log: the eight of diamonds.

"Raise you four again."

"Call." The last card was flipped: the eight of spades.

The scruffy man knocked on the log. "Check."

"Check," Darius returned. The duo revealed their hands. His opponent had two aces, while Darius had two kings. The Noxian grinned. "Full house." The stranger nodded in approval.

"Lady Lucky's smiling on you," he said, moving his hand to his forehead. Suddenly, the man seemed confused, then frowned, shaking his head. Grasping the ten pieces, Darius stacked them on his side. The man chuckled. "You may have won this round, but I warn you, I've never lost a game." Darius snorted.

"You sure are arrogant, telling me that when the game's already started." The man shrugged.

"Playful table talk, is all."

The unveiled cards were scooped back into the deck and reshuffled. After the new hands were dealt, the second round begin. First card revealed was the Jack of Diamonds. "I bet twelve." Darius smirked.

"Confident, are we?" The man licked his pearly white teeth, his mouth stretched out in an evil grin.

"You should know that no one survives this game without packin' a pair." A few moments passed, and twenty-five chips waited for the taking. In front of Darius, he studied the original jack, the five of clubs, and the Queen of Spades. He held the Queen of Hearts and the Ace of Clubs, pondering his next move. Darius had some a high pair and an ace, but his foe was looking awfully smug. He could just be bluffing, the Noxian thought. However, he could have something to beat Darius. Should he fold? No, there were too many chips up for ransom. The soldier knocked on wood.

"Check." The hands were exposed. Darius grit his teeth.

"Two pair! My game," said the cloaked figure, showing off his winnings.

Darius growled. "Get on with it."

Over the next half hour, Darius watched on as chip by chip was stolen from him with each round, until he was left barren. The scruffy man slipped the poker chips and the deck back into the confines of his cloak, laughing triumphantly. "I'm gonna enjoy wearing this. Real pretty too," he held up the necklace, mocking Darius' seething rage. "Whenever something this good is in the pot, you gotta have some tricks up your sleeve." On cue, a few high cards slipped out from his cloak. Darius shot upward.

"You cheating little weasel!" he roared, swiping at the outlander. The man swiftly moved his head out of the strike zone, firing more pebbles into Darius' chest. The warrior coughed, collapsing onto his back and clutching his ribs.

"Cheater's just a fancy word for winner. Besides, I told you I've never lost a fair game. Well, never played one." the man chuckled. Darius felt something land on his chest. He poked his head up. A loaf of bread and the necklace laid on his bandages. Darius peered back up.

"Hey, I'm not heartless. I saw the picture," the scruffy man pointed at the pendant.

"Shut up," Darius spat. The man snorted.

"Be grateful. I don't typically give back someone's entry payment, let alone care for his injuries."

The Noxian's eyes narrowed. "I'm not showing gratitude for a fox." The cloaked figure sighed.

"I don't know where you came from, but you should know there is still honor among thieves." He pointed toward the ration. "Eat."

After Darius grumpily swallowed his food, the man gestured toward his gear. "Grab your stuff, we're movin'."

"And why the hell would I follow you?" The man shrugged.

"Or you know, you could just stay here. Alone in the dark. Without any way of leaving this forest. Especially in your condition," he sarcastically retorted. Darius clenched his fists, hesitantly dressing himself with his armor, with many curses woven into each distinct piece. Finally, Darius rested his axe on his shoulder, putting on the necklace and hiding the pendant under his shirt.

"You still haven't answered me," Darius said.

"I'll tell you all you want to know on the way," the gambler stated.

"Where we headed?"

"You'll see." The campfire suddenly snuffed out, the darkness collapsing on the duo. Almost immediately after the light was removed, the man lifted his hand, a red card between his fingers. Red rays illuminated bright as a torch. Caught off guard, Darius soon spotted a few sets of pale yellow eyes momentarily before they disappeared from sight, hissing and soft shrieks catching in his ears.

"See that?" the man said. "If I didn't help you, you would've been torn apart by the phantasms." He sighed, sounding almost care-free. "Ah, I hate those evil lil' bastards."

"What do I call you?" The Noxian asked simply.

"That's right, that was one of your questions. I should at least grant you that request," the man reasoned. A crow cawed somewhere in the ominous forest.

Darius peered at his surroundings. His sight caught on a sack hanging from a trunk, two dots in its center faintly glowing green. The soldier blinked, and the bag vanished. The gambler flicked the red card through his fingers, the paper dancing between his knuckles.

"You can call me Tobias."

 **What'd you guys think? Don't be shy, I don't bite. I enjoy chatting with people. Well wait, what does that say about me if I go on the internet to merely socialize with strangers...? Anyway, jokes aside, I'm gonna steal some YouTube lines, so leave a like, leave a comment (review), ring that bell, SMACK THAT BELL (or whatever button is down there) and subscribe! Okay, seriously guys, _now_ I'm done with the jokes. As always, thanks for reading my unknown works, and until next chapter guys.**


	16. Chapter 16: Humans are Cruel

**Hey guys, DL here.**

 **Sorry about the wait. Life is busy enough when you don't slap Persona 5 in front of it (buy the game, one of the best investments of your life). Editing and revising took a lot longer than usual too. Forewarning, I will only get maybe one or two chapters out this summer because of how I'm working outside of home and I won't have time to get to my computer. But, that's how often you see my chapters anyway...so enough from me, the annoying author. Enjoy reading!**

The lowly-lighted tavern was thin with customers. Only the chirping of crickets broke the peaceful silence of the night outside. The red paper lanterns that hung from the ceiling swayed with a breeze that snuck in through the sliding door. From what Rumble could see, the only other occupants in the building were Ionian laborers, drinking away their nerves from a hard day's work. Nothing like the rowdy, dangerous pubs that the mechanic was accustomed to. Especially when only humans and no other races currently resided inside.

After finishing a big swig, Garen slammed his mug against the tall tabletop. "Ah, Ionian sake. Doesn't kick like Demacian liquor, but nonetheless fine alcohol indeed," Garen obnoxiously stated, burping as he lifted his hand in the air. "I'll have another!"

The other men in the tavern paid no notice to the foreigner's boisterous outcries. Cleaning some mugs behind the bar, a lanky, narrow-eyed older man observed the odd duo in front of him suspiciously. Rumble groaned.

"You big buffoon, quiet down. We have enough people staring at us already."

"And forsake my homeland's customs?" Garen replied, impatiently gesturing the barkeep for more alcohol, "I'd be betraying myself and my countrymen!" Rumble rolled his eyes.

"I can't wait for you to pass out so you'll finally shut up and let me enjoy this peaceful night." Garen snorted.

"Good luck with that. I dare challenge I hold liquor better than Gragas," the young man laughed, snatching a mug the second his order was placed on the table. Rumble shook his head sullenly.

"Suddenly it stinks of bullshit in here…" the yordle grumbled, laying his head on his arms. Everything appeared fuzzy, and Rumble's eyelids felt heavy. However, almost immediately as they closed, Rumble's eyes shot open, and the yordle broke out in a cold sweat. As exhausted as he felt, the mechanic couldn't be alone with his thoughts. He turned to Garen, who dipped his head curiously.

"Hey, you alright?"

Rumble noticed his breathing had become heavy and erratic. A few pairs of Ionians in the tavern glanced in their direction. Frowning, Rumble dropped his head, hiding his face behind his arms. "There are too many of them in here."

The big man sighed. "C'mon, Rumble. You can't keep judging an entire race by a handful of meager encounters." The yordle's gaze narrowed.

"I can and I will. I tolerate you and Riven only because you're keeping me company. Otherwise, I wouldn't interact with a race of vile, arrogant creatures who suffer the meek and powerless for their own egos and ambitions."

Garen removed his lips from his drink. "Now you know that's not true."

Rumble scoffed. "Hell, to me, Demacia and Noxus fit in that category of humans quite well." Garen's mug slammed into the table for the second time, grabbing attention of even more Ionians.

"You be quiet," Garen snarled. "Noxus is an evil nation building an empire for the sole purpose of spreading their survival of the fittest ideals. Those bastards toss the weak into the bottom of society. Demacia cares for its people!"

"Have you ever considered your nation's own corrupt ideals?" Rumble retorted, catching Garen off guard. "Your people try to separate from the rest of the pack, hiding their ugly hearts behind a curtain of self-righteousness. Demacians claim what they do is just, yet instead of tossing the weak and poor into the ghettos, your government tosses them as well as every other citizen at one point onto the battlefield to their deaths! And all for what? Their own ambitions."

Garen grabbed Rumble's jacket collar and pulled it toward himself. "What the hell has gotten into you?!" The yordle turned away, finding himself hard to ignore the several sets of eyes now locked onto the duo.

After a few silent moments, Rumble answered quietly, "You didn't realize how cruel people could be until you entered a warzone, and even then you still don't understand the cruelty that is inflicted upon races different from humans."

Garen was taken aback. "Rumble, what's going on?"

The fuzzy blue bigmouth brushed off Garen's grip on his shirt collar. "You know why I'm so prejudiced against man?"

The Demacian held his chin in thought. "It's because of that altercation with those bullies, right?" Rumble shook his head.

"There's more to it than that." His ears perked at the sound of moving bodies, noticing within a few moments that the champions were the only customers left in the tavern. Rumble exhaled deeply, rubbing his eyes. Malicious images quickly played through the yordle's head, sending a shiver down his spine.

"If you never noticed, I wasn't as well off as your pampered ass when I was growing up." Garen's one eye twitched, to which Rumble ignored. "My dad with his partner, Cecil Heimerdinger, revolutionized Bandle City into the technological superpower you know of today. Their scientific theories and formulas not only changed yordles' millennia long village-dweller lifestyle, but Runeterra itself. Together, my father and 'Uncle' built the Academy, aspiring that one day, people of all shapes, sizes, and colors would gather to learn at their institute and learn from my father and Cecil. They wanted to mold students into the brightest young minds of their generation.

"To become a teacher, 'Uncle' for the most part gave up being an inventor. But Dad had his own issues, and he wasn't well spoken with strangers, so he passed on the job to other yordle hopefuls. He didn't get much better when my mother left him a few years after I was born. Dad became an alcoholic, and shut himself inside his workshop most nights." Garen scratched the back of his head.

"If he was one of the founding fathers of Yordle Town, wouldn't you have grown up in one of the better suburbs in the city?" Rumble chuckled.

"My dad may have been a certified genius, but he was pretty simple. I grew up in an little apartment downtown, and like I said, Dad spent most of his time downstairs in his workshop. Even though he left Uncle and his friends to wallow away in solitude, he forced me to attend the school he left behind. I was often picked on by a myriad of races, including yordles, for being…a runt," Rumble said, grimacing on the last word.

"As I grew older, the number of outsiders attending the now prestigious academy grew as well, and I started to realize the arrogance of humans. Piltees and Demacians who came to Bandle City attained success through Uncle's and his associates' guidance," he further explained, gulping down some sake from a glass that was as tall as his leg. "But all the time and money spent on tinkering new inventions and gadgets to build relations with the country's allies, and how are they rewarded? A pat on the head," Rumble growled, pounding his fist against the table.

"I understand that yordles for centuries have desired recognition from humans, and that they were overjoyed that they made such good friends with nations such as Demacia and city-states like Piltover. But they demanded so little in return! It sickened me for my people to grind out their blood, sweat, and tears, only to be granted with a nod and a smile. Where was their drive? Their ambitions?" Garen snorted, wiping foam from his lips.

"A few minutes ago, you were labeling humans based on their ambitions, yet your complaining about your race's lack of it." Rumble rolled his eyes.

"There's a difference between dreaming and being greedy." The teen leaned back and stared at the paper lanterns.

"Uncle eventually replicated the academy to Piltover, where it became a famous university, and moved there. With that, my father ordered me to move to Piltover, telling me to be even more alone than I already was. It got even worse. The teasing and the bullying now grew to harassment and superiority complexes. One such time was where I was mugged in a back alley simply because I was unlike 'the rest of my delightful yordle kind'." Garen peered at his feet awkwardly.

"I…" He was cut off by Rumble, who waved his hand dismissively.

"It's alright. It's alright…" Rumble trailed off, sipping some more sake. Garen found it hard to watch Rumble's face contort with sadness.

"Eventually, I'd had enough," Rumble continued. "The junkyard machinations that had always played second fiddle to my classmates' inferior works was never going to be ignored again. I marched to the center of Piltover in Tristy and preached of yordles' worth in defiance." Rumble scoffed. "Probably fell on deaf ears, though. However, some people heard me, and saw what I could do with scraps and junk. Summoners were impressed, and eventually I was invited to the league at a young age."

"Whatever happened to your father?" Garen inquired, chugging the remnants of his mug dry. Rumble looked at the floor.

"I told P-…" Rumble stopped abruptly, almost choking on his own words. After a deep breath, he continued. "I said my father died of a sickness, but that was only half true." The yordle took a moment to collect his thoughts.

"While I was at the University, Dad called for me back home. When I finally reached that tiny apartment in downtown Bandle, my father sounded ecstatic, jittery in fact. He'd interacted with me that day more than he had my whole life, going on and on about he was on the brink of a medical breakthrough. Of all the fields of science he studied, he resonated with medicine the most, and yet was the least successful at it. Until that day, where he would soon showcase his breakthrough and change the world."

"I'm confused," Garen interjected. "What does this have to do with your father dying from sickness?" Rumble fell silent. "Hello?" Garen waved his hand.

"I don't have much evidence, but I believe my father was poisoned."

For the first time, the tavern didn't make a sound, parallel to the peace outside. Garen blinked. "W-What?"

Rumble rubbed his forehead. "I'm not sure, but when I found his corpse, there were symptoms I had never recognized, which is coming from the guy who was forced to attend medical studies at the university. When I finally started thinking straight after the incident, I looked up every book on diseases, poisons, and toxins in the entire university. It took me three weeks of almost non-stop reading, three weeks filled with a big fat nothing."

"And you assume humans were to blame?" Rumble shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know. I recall Dad having his own enemies, which coincidentally were human, but like you said, they're nothing but assumptions. Either way, at that point I had lost my last connection in this world. My only family."

Garen called for another drink, only this time his rowdy tone was replaced with one filled with somberness. "Hey, you've got us. Me, Riven, and Poppy."

A flurry of psychological blows collided with Rumble, groaning as he held his head in his hands. It was until Garen shaking the boy that Rumble could hear his concerned voice. "Hey. Hey! Rumble!" The yordle tried to shake the dizziness out of his head.

"I'm fine, m'fine," Rumble said unconvincingly.

"You're pale as a ghost."

A few minutes passed in silence, Garen now drinking not for a good time, but to calm his nerves. The Demacian slid a glass of water towards the tiny mechanic. "Drink."

Rumble did as he was told without complaint. His head felt like it was about to burst. The clothes on his back were now sticky with sweat. Finishing the glass, Rumble's headache had decreased considerably. "Thanks. Sorry about blowing up there, these past couple of days have exhausted me."

The barkeeper came by with the bill, Garen dropping a couple silver coins in the Ionian's palm. As the man returned to the bar, Rumble leaned in towards the Demacian.

"How's Riven doing?"

"Currently, she's resting in the capital infirmary," Garen replied. "She's stable, but her injuries were very severe. We're just lucky she got nicked. Goes to show how powerful that warlock is."

"At least he didn't ruin that pretty face of hers," Rumble said. Garen chuckled feebly, but his foggy eye betrayed his attempted politeness. He took another swig.

"That girl's been through too much," Garen said, clenching his fist. "Much worse than your or I, mind you." Rumble sat back on his stool, raising an eyebrow.

"That reminds me, how did you two become so close?" the yordle inquired.

"We grew up together," Garen said simply. "When my family was strolling through the upper streets of the capital, I saw a little girl with white hair wearing rags. I was seven at the time. Born to a street whore, Riven was eventually left on her own when her mother died of an illness. Something about her swayed me that day," the man made a smooth, waving gesture. "Like an invisible hand was gently pushing me forward, telling me to get her out of that hell."

"That day, I defied my parents' orders to leave her, appalled at such a tender age that such a great nation had girls like Riven in her state. So she and I ran forward, back to the three-story mansion I called my home on the capital's sloping mountain. She…she hugged me for the longest time that day. Her clothes were filthy and she stank like the slums, but I didn't mind embracing her. All I was concerned with, were removing the tears from her face."

Rumble laughed lightheartedly. "Look at you, big man. All rugged and shit-your-pants terrifying on the outside, but gooey and mushy on the inside," he said, punching the Demacian's arm. Garen beamed sheepishly.

"Keep talking like that and I'll have to get rid of you. Can't have any slack-jaws knowing my secret," he joked. Rumble snorted.

"Good luck to you. Anything happens to me, and your big ass will be on the front page of Summoners' Summit." Garen's face hardened.

"Riven had it awful from the get-go. My mother was brutal to her, often ridiculing me for bringing street trash into our house. And on her orders, the maids mercilessly jabbed at her with their tongues. The only reason she even remained with us was that my father was a kind man with a big heart, and stood with me in sharing our home. At one point, Lux had even tried to befriend her. But Mother immediately shut her down, ordering my sister not to interact with Riven. Father and I were the only ones in the household who supported her. Father even brought her into my swordplay studies and bodybuilding sessions because he joked Riven had a man's will and heart in a woman's body. Being far from ladylike was yet another thing she was shamed for.

"We were sixteen when things started to change. She beat me in almost every sparring match we were thrown in together. The three of us ate like animals at the dinner table. But one night, my mother went too far. Her constant abuse was heightened at the dinner table. Later, when I broke through the locked door to her bedroom in the forgotten halls of the third floor, she couldn't stop bawling. I stayed and comforted her, spending most of the night watching the stars through the skylight. Imagine my surprise when she suddenly pinned me to the bed."

"W-wait wait, wait, wait," Rumble interjected. "Is this going where I think it's going?" Garen smirked.

"Yep. I slept with her." Rumble blinked.

"Damn. Was goody-two-shoes trying to be a rebel?" The duo snickered.

"Something like that. I guess we started growing a little closer. Occasionally, I'd spend time with her in her room. No one really knew that I was vacant from my bedroom on the floor below, and even if they did, I don't think they cared. Things were perfect until my father died."

Garen rapped his knuckles on the table wood. "I was called in by the military to do combat exercises with my squadron at one of the training compounds. Since her squadron was stationed for a camp close by, she stayed home at the mansion. This was when we were about nineteen. There's no way I could've known what would happen."

Garen choked up, turning away for a second to rub his eye. Rumble was stunned. He'd never imagine he'd see the champion of Demacia himself tear up.

"If it's too hard for you…" Rumble started, stopped by a wave of Garen's hand.

"No, no," Garen sniffled, clearing his throat. "You need to know."

Rumble waited patiently as the buff man across from him collected himself. "While I was gone, Riven discovered she was with child."

The yordle boy stared at him blankly, almost frozen. "She found out right after I left," Garen continued, draining his last mug. "I can only imagine how shocked and happy she felt." He stopped momentarily, gritting his teeth as a shiver fluttered through his spine. "But somehow, _she_ found out."

"Who?" Rumble asked.

"Mother."

Crunching wood perked Rumble's ears, realizing Garen was crushing one side of the table.

"I came back almost a week later. I went to see Riven immediately, but when I came to her room, she was gone. It took hours searching the mansion. Finally, I found her when I checked outside at the back of the house. I…I found her in the doghouse that hadn't been used in years near the dumpsters, stripped of any clothing and covered in bruises.

"I-I learned…I learned that the servants had dragged her downstairs par my mother's orders, and any clothing on her back was ripped off. By her own hand, my mother pummeled Riven in the stomach every day, for five days."

Rumble was utterly stunned.

"Apparently, even my sister, Lux, tried to save Riven. The maids stopped her and locked Lux inside her room. In all my life, I've never seen such an expression on anyone that I saw on Riven's face. It was indescribable." Garen covered his eye and coughed, failing to hide his tears from Rumble.

"So then, that means…"

"Yeah. Riven carried my child, and my mother took it away from us."

"Well, she was even better in hand to hand combat, right? How come she didn't save herself?" Garen shook his head.

"If Riven had retaliated, that would've given my mother the right to throw her out on the streets at the very least, and imprisoned at the worst. All because if she had tried to protect herself, Riven would be unable to join the military, and would likely never see me again."

"Wow, humans are cruel…" Rumble said. "So, what happened when you found out? Didn't you go talk to your mother?"

"Oh, I talked to her, alright," Garen's jaw trembled. "She went on and on about how I was such a disgrace to the Crownguard family. For not only allowing a flee-ridden dog into our sacred home, but also muddying myself by breeding with one. That if my father was a reasonable man, he would've agreed with my mother all those years ago to dispose of the street trash immediately."

"So then, what happened?"

"Oh, what happened," Garen chuckled gravely, then twisted his face into an ugly scowl.

"I threw her down the stairs."

An obnoxious cricket could be heard outside. The barkeeper frowned at the strange duo, eyeing them wearily as he counted the day's earnings. Rumble stared dumbfounded at his compatriot.

"Damn, Garen…" Rumble breathed. "What happened to the body?" he asked in a lower voice.

"I told the servants she took a bad fall down the stairs. Ironically, those acting skills my mother taught me came in handy. She didn't make it."

"But that still doesn't make it right…"

"What would you have done?!" Garen abruptly stood, slamming his palms against the table. "What would you do if you found your father's killer? Would you show mercy to the fiend who ripped out the one person left in your life who cared about you?!" Rumble awkwardly peered at his shoes, but the Demacian wasn't finished.

"Would you forgive the bastard warlock for what he did to Poppy?"

Pain crashed into Rumble's skull. Images and thoughts unwelcome flurried through his head.

"Of course not!" Rumble shouted. "He…he…he took her away from me!"

The barkeeper began to bark in an incomprehensible language toward the champions. Garen sighed.

"That, piled on with her disgrace from the army and her banishment, I can't say I'm not amazed Riven survived these past seven years. The barkeep yipped and shook his fist at the pair, throwing threats in an unknown speech.

"C'mon," Garen said. "We've overstayed our welcome."

* * *

Orus studied the gems in his arm as he sat patiently in the darkness. It had taken quite a while, but Furom finally had calmed the mage down. Red markings of a forgotten writing faintly pulsed on the shadowed walls. The containment magic was simply a formality; Orus could effortlessly shatter its framework, however choosing to loiter deep within the tombs as not to piss off his superior even further.

A chilling, scraping sound echoed across the cavern. The mage didn't bother trying to get a glance at its source. He knew he wouldn't see it. Maniacal giggling overpowered the screech of metal against stone. Orus looked up, staring into two red, diamond shaped abysses.

"The hell do you want?" the dark wizard pursed his lips. A mouth opened in the darkness, revealing a set of teeth like a row of perfectly designed knives, curving with the mouth into a twisted smile.

"Boss is pretty disturbed, thanks to you," a smooth, snakelike voice responded. Though unseen, Orus clearly heard a short, quick clanging of blades. The mage's eyes narrowed.

"Shouldn't you be busy in Zaun?" Orus inquired harshly. The eyes and mouth backed up, slightly dipping sideways.

"One of my shadow copies is doing reconnaissance in the City of Smog. Currently, my real body is doing a special favor for Lord Tyr."

"Dissolve back into the black before I make you, pest," Orus growled. The voice cackled.

"Maybe next time, you won't be so selfish and forget about grabbing the Skeleton Key. You know how failure is tolerated," it jabbed. The shadows enveloped the images, and the cavern fell silent.

Each of the four beings that rested within the catacombs had their own unique personalities and quirks, some at times useful while others prodded Orus irksomely. Umbra was the most irritating, as he would always attempt to meet with the mage when he returned and greeted him with a condescending, smartass quip. Unfortunately, his stealth and cloning skills made him too important for the group to be labeled expendable. At the end of the fighting, Orus would most likely remove that annoying stain from the remains of Runeterra.

Furom's necromancy, soul wave manipulation, and tactical mind were invaluable combat compliments in the field, but his melancholic attitude and his eternal thirst for more souls made him difficult to coordinate with. On the other side of the spectrum was Ira, who perfectly matched the contradiction between brawn over brain. His pure strength and combat ability was that of a pure monster. Although he was physically unmatched compared to other warriors of mortal history, his brash and reckless nature coupled with his weak intelligence could lead to a battle's fatality.

Lastly, Tyr was much a mystery to Orus. Greatly irritated by this, the wizard countlessly searched for any source of knowledge on the leader, but came up short every time. What he did observe however, was his outstanding patience and his brilliance. Furom was a tactical genius as Tyr's right hand man, but Tyr was leagues above his lieutenant, a legitimate mastermind. Wandering the many planes of existence for millennia, Orus well knew that beings like himself and Tyr had plenty of time to brainstorm toward their way of achieving their goals. But Tyr's careful planning and unbridled hatred amazed even the dark mage.

Feet slapped against the ground ahead of Orus. Unpleasant company would be soon arriving. He was not intimidated, however. Knowledge of the world runes would be more than enough leverage to escape an unwelcome meeting. But if his own ambitions were to be achieved, Orus would have to play brothers in arms for a bit longer, even if it meant supplying forbidden knowledge to a mortal. That, and taking the scroll on Ryze's back.

 **Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. As always, thanks for reading my unknown works, like, share, subscribe (follow), and leave a comment down below (review). Until next chapter, guys.**


End file.
